


Veritas

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Once a Thief (TV), SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron
Genre: Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-13
Updated: 2005-07-13
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: co-written with Jami Wilsen and Jamie JoyceVic, Mac, booze, revelations, smut





	1. part 1 In Vino

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

His head cocked to a contemplative angle, Mac sat, hunched over his glass, his weight on his elbows as he leaned on the bar. "I believe I'll have - rum next. Yeah. Rum."

 

Vic knocked back his scotch, flashing the other man a quick glance from the corner of his eye. "You're going to pay for all those, later." It was a simple statement and not in the least judgmental.

 

"Variety, they say, is the spice of life," Mac reminded him, accepting the grudgingly offered tumbler of dark liquid from the bartender. "Though I've always wondered exactly who the heck "they" are," he added in an abstracted tone. 

 

Vic stared numbly into his own empty glass as if expecting to see answers revealed by the removal of its golden contents. Finally, he shook his head and looked back up at the bartender with his most appealing expression. It was clear what he was asking for, and equally clear he'd passed sober some time before.

 

With a put-upon sigh, the bartender relented. "One more, but that's the last." He took the glass from Vic's hand and turned back to the bottle-lined shelved grumbling under his breath, "No point in dirtying another glass...." 

 

After a few moments, Mac broke the heavy silence. "At least she's going to be okay." 

 

Vic snorted. "No thanks to her date. You'd think she would have more sense." 

 

"T'wasn't her fault," slurred Mac, his attempts to sample the local bar's entire "top shelf" finally catching up with him. "She wasn't driving." 

 

Vic accepted the last scotch and threw it back as easily as he had the others. That was the thing about drinking very old single malt. Every one was as smooth as old silk.

 

"Serves him right," Mac muttered, glaring into the glass that dared to once again be empty. 

 

"I'll drink to that," Vic said, lifting his own. Too late he remembered that it too was empty. He grimaced. "Damn, maybe I won't."

 

The latest target of scorn, Li Ann's unlucky date, had been disliked intensely upon first inspection by her two ex's. They had swiftly joined forces in trying to impress upon her the unsuitability of the 'computer guy'. 

 

Brian Pendleton, argued Li Ann, was a gentleman and a lot of fun. She had been completely stubborn and insisted on accepting his invitation to dinner - to the dismay of both Mac and Vic. 

 

Their fears had seemed frighteningly justified when Li Anne hadn't shown up for work the next morning. The boys were instantly convinced that the man was a rapist, serial killer, or closest axe murderer. The reality was only slightly less disturbing to Mac and Vic's overactive imaginations.

 

It seemed Li Ann's gentleman had a bad habit of talking on the phone whilst driving... and had subsequently driven them into a tree, neatly wrapping the front fender around it and leaving Li Ann out of action for several weeks. The Director herself was more than a little put out - you'd almost have thought she'd have preferred the axe murderer....

 

Both Mac and Vic had rushed off to the hospital upon hearing the news. When they'd arrived, the ER nurse had informed them that their partner was in surgery and wouldn't be able to have visitors until the next morning. They'd exchanged a look, silently agreeing that they'd stay until surgery was over and Li Ann was safely in recovery. 

 

Shown to a waiting area for the families of surgical patients, they'd waited. Predictably, Vic had paced incessantly while Mac sprawled in a chair giving every appearance of complete and utter relaxation. For once, they'd not argued. Four hours in a small area, and not one snide remark.

 

Mac couldn't believe it. Odd, how they seemed to have reached this silent agreement that their usual snappish digs at each other were out of bounds for those hours.

 

Then, much to their relief, the surgeon had come out to speak with them, reassuring them that Li Ann had come through surgery with flying colors and would be fine. They were so relieved, in fact, that they went straight to a bar. 

 

Since then they had been busily downing drink after drink as they discussed - at great length - exactly WHY this Brian-the-computer-guy was completely unsuitable for Li Ann. And how many ways there were to make a grown man disappear.

 

While neither Mac nor Vic would have admitted to a case of sour grapes, the truth of the matter was this "computer guy" was smart, suave, well-educated, good-looking and apparently offered Li Ann a more stable, solid relationship than either of them could. Something she insisted she wanted even as she kept her two partners 'dangling' with the occasional shred of hope. 

 

"He's irresponsible," Vic insisted, as if this was the worst possible sin a man could possess. "I mean, you DON'T use your cellphone when you're driving! That's just - just common sense."

 

Mac nodded sagely, ignoring the fact that he, himself, usually drove with a cell phone in one hand while the other was busy adjusting the radio. "Unsafe. How can she go OUT with a guy like that?"

 

"After she turned both of us down," Vic added, finally getting to the heart of the matter.

 

"For being too reckless," Mac rejoined.

 

Vic turned to him, squinting slightly to bring his partner into proper focus. "Actually, you were the one she called reckless."

 

Mac shrugged, unimpressed. "She called you predictable."

 

Vic scowled, not at all happy with the turn the conversation had taken. "Okay, okay. The bottom line is: he isn't good for her."

 

"And he's boring. Like, what's the attraction of cricket, anyway?"

 

The bartender came over to them, arms crossed and stared at them meaningfully.

 

"What's HIS problem?" Mac asked Vic - in what he thought was a quiet voice.

 

Vic shrugged, almost falling off of his barstool in the process. "I think he wants us to leave. Idiot thinks we've had enough to drink."

 

"What?" Mac's eyebrows rose in a comically stunned expression. "My good man," he slurred, leaning halfway across the bar to give the bartender his most sincere look, "we are just fine - not drunk at all." Satisfied that that was resolved, he added grandly, "Another round, please. I'll have vodka and tonic this time. On second thought, hold the tonic."

 

The man shook his head emphatically. "Not a chance, boys. You're both way over the legal limit. I'll just call you a cab so you can go home and sleep it off."

 

"Don't need a cab," Mac responded, as if pointing out the obvious. "Car's just outside - we'll be fine." Unfortunately, he waved one arm to emphasize his statement and lost his balance. Only quick reflexes on Vic's part saved Mac from an intimate acquaintance with the questionable cleanliness of the floor.

 

"C'mon, Mac," Vic intervened. "He's right - let him call us a cab - we can pick up the car tomorrow."

 

Mac shrugged him off, and surged to his feet. Ignoring the annoying tendency the floor had apparently developed to sway at irregular intervals, Mac questioned angrily. "You think I can't make it?"

 

Vic merely squinted a little harder and chuckled at him.

 

"What's so damn funny? I'm fine," Mac declared. Realizing he was towering over the still seated man, Mac tried to put his superior position to good use by glaring at his partner. Vic's mockery of his ability to hold his liquor was thoroughly pissing him off.

 

Vic snorted. "Right. Like I'm gonna let you behind the wheel so you can drive me into a tree of our very own."

 

"I could make it," Mac grumbled. But the reminder of Li Ann's accident had taken the wind out of his sails. And it also reminded him of that damned "computer guy" setting him off on a new round of complaints. "I just don't get it. What has he got that we haven't?"

 

Vic groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. "What'd you have to do THAT for?"

 

"What?" Mac stared.

 

"Mention HIM, again. Could you not do that? You're wrecking my buzz."

 

"You brought it up, I didn't."

 

"No, I didn't."

 

"Yeah, you did."

 

"Didn't."

 

"Did, too. You talked about the tree."

 

"No, I didn't. I was talking about your...driving ability. In your current state. Of in- in- inebriation." Though Vic might have been willing to argue his sobriety a short time before, the fine Scotch he'd consumed was finally making itself felt.

 

Mac sniggered. "Good one. I dare you to try and say that again."

 

"You heard me the first time," Vic grumbled with wounded dignity. "You're drunk, I'm drunk - be sensible for once, Mac, and accept the damned cab. Neither of us can operate a car tonight."

 

Pouting, Mac narrowed his eyes at Victor. "Okay, maybe we shouldn't drive, but if you think I'm leaving my car in that parking lot overnight, you're drunker than I thought."

 

With a heavy sigh, Vic let his head thud onto the wooden bar. Mac and that damned car. He'd never understand why the man insisted on driving a vehicle that cost more than most people earned in years.

 

Moments later, inspiration struck and Vic pulled his weary head from the wooden surface. "Wait a minute, I think I know a few of the guys who still work this neighborhood. We'll just let the police know your car will be here overnight and ask them to keep an eye on it." Vic frowned and glanced around looking for a phone, "I have a couple of friends who wouldn't mind doing it - lemme just make a call."

 

"Friends?" Mac asked in mock amazement. "YOU have friends, Victor?"

 

"Fuck you, Ramsey," Vic growled. "I'll have you know that I have plenty of friends - PLENTY of friends."

 

"Riiight," Mac agreed in an obvious attempt to ward off the you-don't-know-me-I-have hidden-depths lecture he'd heard one too many times. "I'm sure you do, Victor." When the other man sliced an icy green glare his way, he added, "Really." 

 

He sighed and nudged Vic's shoulder with his own. "Go on... make your call. BUT - if anything happens to my car, I'll... I'll... well, I'll think of a suitable revenge."

 

By the time Vic had completed his call, the cab had arrived. The two men tottered out and poured themselves into the back seat.

 

"Where to, gentlemen?" The driver asked.

 

"Well, the night is young," Mac said, musingly.

 

Vic shot him a disgusted look. "My place," he said. Then at the driver's questioning glance, he remembered that the man had no way of knowing where he lived and began giving directions, or at least trying to as Mac began to complain bitterly.

 

"No! Not your place. No, no, no. That simply won't do, Vic. I'm allergic to your apartment. I really am. I'm not going there. You can drop me off at mine on the way."

 

Vic jabbed him with a well-placed elbow, hoping to shut him up. "Hey. Cut it out. Or ... I'll cook."

 

Mac spread his hands beseechingly. "No! Anything but that. Please. I'll - I'll - look, I'm behaving. Your place it is. Just don't cook anything."

 

Vic frowned at him. "I'm not THAT bad! And I'll have you know that I've improved, too, since you were last over."

 

Mac regarded him pleadingly. "I'm begging you. Vic, it isn't much to ask. Just this one time. Please. One tiny favor."

 

His feelings more than a touch hurt, Vic gave a put-upon sigh and shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Fine, Mac. I won't cook tonight. In fact, I won't ever inflict my cooking on you again." 

 

Half expecting an apology, he sat back and shot a reproving look at Mac.

 

"Thank god for small favors," Mac responded. 

 

"Go to hell, Ramsey!"

 

"On my way there now, Mansfield."

 

"You calling my place hell?"

 

Mac smirked. "Well... maybe not hell. Purgatory."

 

"Fine," Vic announced emphatically. He leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. "After you drop me off, you can take this guy to his own place."

 

"Fine," Mac sneered.

 

"Fine," Vic sneered back.

 

The driver shrugged. Another couple of drunks. Nothing new in the world there.

 

As soon as the cab pulled up in front of Vic's building, he hurriedly scrambled out of the back seat. Unfortunately, he forgot about the uneven sidewalk and ended up on his face within two steps.

 

"Jesus Christ, Victor!" Mac laboriously clambered out of the cab and reached down to haul his partner to his feet.

 

Swaying unsteadily, trying to regain his balance, Vic leaned against Mac. Mac abruptly found himself wondering at why it felt...so... good, yeah, that was it. It was good. Having Vic leaning on him, against him... In fact, Vic was warm and smelt good, too. He didn't push Vic away, as he would have done under other circumstances. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered something about it being entirely inappropriate for him to be standing there, paralytic, letting Vic lean on him.

 

The rolling down of the window behind them shattered his reverie. "Hey!" shouted the driver. 

 

Vic cursed under his breath and dug his hand into his pocket, withdrawing his wallet, and stumbled back to the cab.

 

Mac drew a deep breath to try and clear his head, then turned to go into the building. He'd completely forgotten that he'd sworn he wasn't going to stay at Vic's place.

 

Other considerations had taken pre-eminent position in his sluggish brain. /That did NOT just happen. It didn't./

 

Once they'd arrived at Vic's apartment, Mac waited with ill-concealed impatience while Vic located his keys then fumbled to unlock the door. Finally, after Vic had managed to try every key - except the correct one - dropping the ring onto the floor several times in the process, Mac snorted in disgust and grabbed them from Vic's hand.

 

"Allow me," he offered gallantly. On his first try, Mac got the door opened and ushered Vic into the living room. 

 

"My hero," Vic said sarcastically.

 

Mac immediately made for the kitchen - and the cabinet where Vic stored his liquor. Vaguely curious, Victor followed. "You're gonna have ANOTHER drink?" He asked incredulously.

 

"Yes, I am," was the defiant response. "And so are you."

 

Vic sighed. "No, I'm not."

 

"Yes, you are," came the disembodied reply that floated from the depths of the cabinet. Mac emerged a moment later with a bottle of scotch.

 

"Hey, you can't just open that. That's mine," Vic said, coming forward to grab it from him. "C'mon, Mac; at least get an open bottle. Give- give me - that -" They were grappling over it now. 

 

Mac stepped back, wresting the bottle from Vic's hold with a firm pull backwards. As Vic opened his mouth to complain, Mac said, "Okay, okay! Get an open one then." He handed it back with a sardonic look. 

 

As his partner turned away, Mac found himself struggling to suppress the sudden mental image of grappling with Victor on the floor, and not over possession of a stupid bottle. Hm-mmm... The jolt of arousal that accompanied the image couldn't be denied. Maybe they'd been going about this all the wrong way. Suddenly sure things were about to get very interesting, Mac grinned - widely.

 

Vic had put the whisky back and, after a moment, turned with a bottle gripped triumphantly in his hand. There was only a couple inches of liquor left in the bottom. "See?" he waved it slightly in the air between them, "Just enough." He stopped, frowning suspiciously when he noticed Mac's grin. "What is it now?"

 

Mac continued to grin, tilting his head slightly to regard Vic, and said, "Nothing. Just thinking. You realize we didn't argue ONCE while we were waiting in the hospital, worried about Li Ann, right?"

 

Vic stared at him then shook his head briefly, as if made dizzy by the sudden change of topic. He looked about him, and then went to the cupboard to get two clean glasses. Putting them down, he opened the bottle and poured a healthy helping, finishing off the last of the scotch. "So? So what?"

 

"You DID notice that, right?" Mac was insistent.

 

Vic picked up one of the glasses, and hesitated, before chugging it back. His eyes watering slightly, he said, "Yeah. I noticed that you had the decency to restrain yourself. You actually managed to keep your mouth shut for, well, several hours, wasn't it?" He turned his head to regard Mac. "You want a medal for that, or something?" 

 

"Victor, Victor," Mac sighed. "Here I am on the verge of an epiphany regarding our relationship and you're making fun of me. I'm hurt, Vic. Deeply hurt." 

 

Vic stared in amazement. "Mac, have you lost your mind? We don't have a ... a RELATIONSHIP. We're co-workers, partners, we both loved Li Ann and were both rejected by her. That's all we have in common." 

 

Lifting his glass to his lips, Vic blinked when he saw that it was empty. How the hell had that happened? He set his glass on the counter and returned to the cabinet for the recently rescued unopened bottle.

 

"Hey," Mac protested. "Thought we couldn't open that one. Decide not to save it for that special occasion - you know, if you ever actually manage to get a date?"

 

Choosing to ignore Mac's needling, Vic concentrated on opening the bottle and pouring himself another drink. "Let's go in and sit down, Mac." Vic headed rather unsteadily out to the living room, glass in one hand, bottle in the other, and collapsed bonelessly onto the couch.

 

Picking up the second glass though he no longer wanted a drink, Mac drifted in Vic's wake and followed his example, sitting himself down a few inches over on the same couch.

 

Vic glared at him momentarily. Then returned to contemplating the amber liquid in his glass.

 

Christ, talk about thick-skinned, thought Mac. Trying to rile Victor now was proving even more difficult than reasoning with him. It had to be the scotch. It had to be. Mac decided to take another tack. "Are you planning on sharing that, or keeping it all to yourself?"

 

Victor handed him the bottle without a word.

 

As he poured, Mac rattled on. "You're right, of course. Why bother trying to plan for any kind of a future? Our asses belong to the Director; our brains too. Put them on the line every day for...what? But you're getting to the end of the road, aren't you, old boy?" He winked at Vic, cheerily.

 

Vic glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

Mac shrugged. "Well, you're running out of options, I'd say. Unless you're planning to, like, make a move, like, on Jackie," he said, in an irritating imitation of the Janczyk ex-mob queen. 

 

Vic snorted, meaningfully. "I'd have to get through your favorite pal, Dobrinsky. At least I'm not still in love with Li Ann. Unlike you, poor unfortunate fool that you are." He stopped at Mac's curious frown in his direction. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, Ramsey? This is a first! I'll drink to that." He reached ineffectually for the bottle of scotch.

 

Mac kept it just slightly out of his reach. "Vic? What are you implying?" 

 

"Not IMPLYING anything. You're still in love with Li Ann, and we both know it."

 

So incensed was he by the smug words, Mac momentarily forgot to protect the scotch from Vic's grasping hand. He stared; silently amazed that his partner had completely missed the fact that Mac was long recovered from his romantic involvement with Li Ann.

 

Vic poured himself a generous shot of single malt and settled back into the comfortable couch, proud of the fact that he'd managed to strike Mac speechless. He pointedly ignored the glare Mac was sending his way and sipped his drink with a contented sigh.

 

"I," Mac announced indignantly, "am SO over Li Ann. YOU'RE the one still carrying a torch for her."

 

"Bullshit."

 

"No, Vic, truth. You've never accepted the fact that she turned you down," Mac informed him in serious tones. "You should probably see someone about that, you know."

 

But Vic was basking in the fact that he'd gotten to Mac and he merely smiled. "You can kid yourself about it all you want, Ramsey. I've seen the way you watch her. When you think no-one's looking."

 

Mac grinned at him though, at this. "Why, Vic, I didn't know you cared. How long has this been going on, then?"

 

Vic stopped, a little lost. "How long has WHAT been going on?"

 

"You. Looking. Watching me." Mac waved the bottle expressively. "You can tell me, Victor. I won't laugh. I promise."

 

Victor scowled at him. "I'm an operative for a shadowy government agency, remember? It's my JOB to watch people."

 

Mac snorted derisively. "Try again, Vic. It's your job to watch criminals and evildoers - not me. And you have been watching me... 'specially my ass."

 

Choking on the mouthful of scotch he'd been in the process of swallowing, Vic stared at Mac from reddened eyes. "Your ASS?"

 

Grinning, Mac leaned to one side and patted the ass in question. "Yes, Vic - This ass. You seem to have fixated on it lately."

 

He wanted to respond with a suitably crushing comment, but Vic found himself staring at Mac's rear end in silent wonder. He had to admit, it was a rather nice ass, as asses went - but...

 

"I have NOT been staring at your ass. Or any other portion of your anatomy, for that matter." 

 

Mac frowned in puzzlement. "But - you HAVE. In fact, you're doing it right now, Vic."

 

Vic tore his eyes away and gruffly said, "Maybe if you stopped... doing that."

 

Mac tutted, shaking his head. "You're losing your touch." He leaned forward and took the bottle back again. "One more for the road?" He poured another whiskey, aware of Vic's fuming beside him. "It's okay, Victor. I'm flattered, actually. No, really, I am. But you realize what this means, don't you?" 

 

Acidly Vic replied, "That you're a shameless exhibitionist with delusions of grandeur about your own ass? What makes you think that I've noticed it before just now, with you," he made an irritated motion in the air with his hand, "waving it around like that?" He charged on before Mac could reply, "Besides, this says more about you than it does me. Why have you been watching ME?"

 

Mac raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me? Watching you?" He laughed. 

 

Vic donned his I'm-being-patient-with-you-because-you-can't-help-being-an-idiot expression and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "Mac, I've noticed you watching me. I know you think I don't see, but I do. You're younger than I am," Vic said, ignoring Mac's snort with dignity, "and I suppose you're still a little ... curious. Sexually, I mean. It happens, I'm the closest male friend you have and so you've fixated your interest on me. It'll pass."

 

Rather than the loudly defensive denial he'd expected, Vic was stunned to see Mac blush and turn his face away.

 

Uh oh.

 

"Mac?"

 

Trying to recover his poise, which he feared was long gone by now, Mac cleared his throat. "Actually, you're not. My, uh, 'friend', that is." Jesus, that sounded lame even to him. Damn. Shit. HELL. "-And - and anyway, you don't think I'm going to believe that coming from you, do you? You just don't want to admit what you REALLY think of me." He tried to adopt a knowing smile but he figured it probably looked rather sickly at this point. His face was hot and he swore to himself silently, wondering if it was as red as it felt. 

 

Vic was still staring at him, realizing that he'd called Mac's bluff. Finally. At last. He'd managed to gain the perfect upper hand over Mac. Strangely, he didn't feel very jubilant at being right. In reality, he'd just been shooting off his mouth, looking to piss the other man off, with his pointed summation of Mac's problem...

 

And now... Now it appeared he'd been right. Mac really DID have... what? A curiosity? Fascination? Infatuation? With HIM? Outlandish as that idea at first seemed, the violent blush that still hadn't completely faded from Mac's face gave it credence that couldn't be ignored. Vic attempted to swallow with a suddenly dry throat. 

 

He said, his voice roughened, "Mac, are you -"

 

Mac jumped up and said, almost angrily, "It's always about you, isn't it? Poor Victor, the one with all the reasons in the world to feel sorry for himself. Maybe if you stopped trying to justify your existence by attempting to save basket-cases and mending broken wings, you'd see that you're not the only one who feels anything."

 

Vic gaped at the other man. Where the hell had that come from? And did he really mean the unprovoked attack?

 

Mac sighed, frustrated. Running a shaking hand through his curly hair, he turned away, pacing restlessly in the crowded space between the sofa and the coffee table. He hadn't meant to say that; hadn't meant to say anything like that at all, in fact. What he'd wanted to say was something far different. He'd just felt so exposed, so vulnerable...

 

Mac took a deep breath, and forced himself to regain his inner balance, despite the alcohol in his blood. Looking down at his seated partner, once more in control of himself, he stated, "Victor, let's just - just drop it. I don't think I want to have this conversation with you, right now especially. I mean, let's just forget about it; call it a night, and tomorrow we can carry on like it never happened. Just like always. Right?" 

 

The guarded defensiveness of Mac's words touched something deep inside of Vic. He didn't want to hurt Mac - not really. Leaving things off here, trying to pretend that this stilted, awkward excuse for a conversation had never taken place, would be the end of whatever Mac and he meant to each other. 

 

"I don't think we can do that, Mac." Vic rose from the couch and turned to face the younger man. "I, for one, won't be able to forget. And, I'm not sure that I'd want to, even if it were possible. We need to talk about this," he said steadily. 

 

Mac stared at the glass in his hand with desperate intensity. Anything to avoid looking into that piercing green gaze. "Victor," he almost whispered the word. "I don't think... I'm not sure that there's much to talk about. I want you. You're straight. End of discussion."

 

It was Victor's turn for his face to feel suddenly heated, and he knew it was more than the scotch. He'd been plastered for a while now and it hadn't felt like this. 

 

Letting the 'fuzziness' of the scotch insulate him, Vic considered his partner's words. The thought of Mac...wanting him... DESIRING him... It set off a chain reaction somewhere in the region of his brain, then down to his heart, then reaching evil fingers all the way down to his cock. Vic realized that despite his inebriated condition, he was responding to Mac's serious and open declaration. 

 

He licked his lips and tried to focus. He didn't want Mac walking out of here after a statement like that. He would be certain he'd ruined everything between them and there'd be no saving their rather odd friendship. He wanted to talk about this but found himself instead reacting physically, with the curious need to feel Mac's body against his again. It was like a tactile flashback to the brief moment outside when they'd arrived at the building... There'd been a frisson of illicit excitement in the contact between them. A moment that had been so completely outside of normal, familiar reality... 

 

He shook his head. "Mac, you're making assumptions about me again. 

 

"Huh?" Mac stared at Vic, a frown of confusion creasing his brow. "What the hell...?" He blinked, reran his last comment through his alcohol-soaked brain, and the light slowly dawned. The only assumption he'd made...

 

"You mean... you mean you're NOT straight?" He asked incredulously. "Victor, I am seriously worried about your mental state, here. You are just about the straightest man I know."

 

Vic just smiled.

 

"Aren't you?" Mac asked, suddenly feeling as if he had somehow fallen into a parallel universe - and that the Vic in this particular universe was gaining a perverse enjoyment out of driving him mad. 

 

Vic swirled the tiny amount of liquid remaining in his glass, watching it with rapt fascination. It was far easier to look at than the stunned, perplexed expression on Mac's face. He wasn't sure he knew what he was doing but the sense of liberation he was gaining from it was too exhilarating to ignore. "Like I said, you assume a lot. You don't know me; you think I'm this clueless, hopelessly uptight and 'straighter than an arrow' guy... Mac, you don't know the first thing about me. So you just fill in the blanks as you go along. Hey," he added, catching a glimpse of Mac's wounded expression, "I'm not accusing you - I'm just saying that maybe we don't know each other as well as we thought we did. After all, you kind of took me by surprise there, with that statement of yours. Why shouldn't I have a few surprises." 

 

Mac shrugged. Deal with it, he told himself, just fuckin' deal with it. It was surreal, but hell, it was where he was at the moment. Vic's place. Yeah. Okay. He sat back on the couch, leaning backwards, looking up at the ceiling. "Vic, just tell me one thing. As crazy as this sounds, are you - do you - am I the only one here who's been thinking about, you know, 'us'? As a possibility?" 

 

Vic frowned a little. He didn't look over at Mac. He sighed through his nose and drained the last of the whiskey from his glass. He was tired. Suddenly, he really didn't want to deal with this right now. "Sure. I mean, yeah, I've THOUGHT about it. But not in this context." He had to stop and wonder at that. What did he want? Did he want Mac? It was one thing to have someone wanting him... it was quite another to reciprocate. And Mac was, well, MAC. Irritating, annoying... 

 

And, he had to admit as he gazed at his partner, gorgeous. Funny. Smart. 

 

Hell. If he actually made a move - or allowed Mac to make a move - what would that mean in the long term? After a few hours pleasure, what would happen? Could they go back to the way things were? Did he even want to go back... or, did he want to chuck his reservations to the wind and give this thing a try. 

 

Whatever the hell 'this thing' turned out to be.

 

Carefully, Vic leaned forward to set his glass on the table, then carefully seated himself beside Mac, their thighs touching lightly. "I... Mac, what do you want? From me, I mean."

 

Mac closed his eyes. "I don't want anything from you, Vic."

 

Vic regarded him, carefully. The jocular playboy seemed long gone and in his place was a Mac that was almost vulnerable. And they were both far too drunk to be dissembling at this point. He took in Mac's expression. His partner looked - sad? Resigned? Something shifted in Vic and he leaned forward, giving in to the impulse.

 

"Look, let's just leave it. I don't-" The rest of what Mac might have tried to say was abruptly cut off by the sensation of a warm, firm and surprisingly soft mouth on his. Mac's eyes snapped open. The taste of the whiskey mixed with Vic's breath was intoxicating in more ways than one, and then he almost moaned with disappointment, as Vic moved back to look into his eyes. 

 

"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is?" Vic suggested, a trace of humor in his husky, velvet voice. But when Mac only stared at him like he'd finally flipped, he added, "You really want to walk away, leave it like this? Mac, I'm not going to be able to forget what you've said. It doesn't have to mean anything more than this." He moved in once again to press another slow kiss on Mac's paralyzed lips. Raising up only a millimeter, he smiled and whispered, "Let's find out what it is before we throw it away. Okay?"

 

Mac opened his mouth to respond. Luckily, Vic swooped down and captured his lips before he could say anything too embarrassingly revealing about just exactly how long and how badly he'd been wanting exactly this. 

 

A sly tongue slipped past his lips and teeth and Mac's higher brain functions decided to take the rest of the night off. His world narrowed to include only Vic - the way he tasted, the warmth that seemed just to roll off of him and envelop Mac. And his hands... damn! Victor's clever, clever fingers carefully traced the line of his neck, his shoulders, and his arms. 

 

Someone groaned - Mac couldn't be sure, but he suspected he was the source of the rather embarrassingly desperate sound. And he couldn't have possibly cared less. No, he had other far more important things to worry about. Like, how to get his muscles back under conscious control so that he could do more than sit in stunned stillness, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. God, he wanted to explore this amazing man fate had tossed into his lap. He wanted to touch. To taste. To FEEL.

 

Another groan and... Yes! Somehow, Mac's body had remembered what to do, automatic responses kicking in even though his mind was currently unable to function. With a move he could never quite recall, he managed to maneuver until he was reclining on the couch, anchored in place by the weight of Vic's body.

 

The sheer deliciousness of this position sent a lightning like jolt of sensation through his system that was almost enough to make him come right then and there. Gasping as Vic's mouth trailed over his chin, down his neck, Mac struggled for control. Damn. Those beautiful, hot lips nibbling most delightfully on his sensitive skin were driving him crazy. Tipping his head back to allow Vic better access, Mac stared upwards, contemplating the ceiling in an attempt to slow down his raging libido. Some tiny rational corner of his mind made the absent observation that there was an awful lot of dust on the ceiling light above his head - and what was that....

 

The light fixture had a tiny, glowing red dot that was just visible because of the odd angle from which he was viewing it. Mac closed his eyes, disgusted at the evidence of the Director's meddling in Vic's life. Knowing, however, that there was little to be done about it, he struggled to forget about it, her, their job, even Li Ann, the whole kit and caboodle. 

 

But Vic noticed the sudden cooling of his response and pulled back up to stare down into his face. Vic's expression was glazed, his pupils dilated and his face flushed with arousal, but concern and confusion were also clearly evident. Mac found himself slightly shaken by the fire in Vic's eyes, the eager intensity of his desire. 

 

"What is it?" Vic asked, roughly, as if finding the effort of holding back a strain.

 

Mac shook his head slightly, not willing to let this moment escape. "Nothing. Just - no, it's nothing."

 

Vic stared at him, going still. "You're having second thoughts," he stated, his eyes narrowing. "Aren't you?"

 

"No. No, I'm not," Mac exclaimed, and brought up his hands to cradle either side of Vic's face, pulling him down once more.

 

Warm, wonderful, wet and hot, oh God... This was better. Much better in fact. He no longer cared what the Director saw or thought. That bitch wasn't going to ruin the best thing that had happened to him in longer than he could remember. 

 

And then the way that Vic carefully, exquisitely ground his hips against Mac's, deliberately and slowly, bringing their hard erections into a teasing contact through the fabric of their respective jeans, sent all further thought flying from Mac's mind.

 

Mac was twisting and arching under him with such enthusiasm that Vic feared he'd be thrown right onto the floor. He used one knee to nudge Mac's long legs apart and settled his own weight between them, holding onto the arm of the sofa with one hand. A little insurance never hurt. He settled in, his free hand cupping the side of Mac's face, and started tracing a careful route from jawline to throat to... What the fuck was this material doing in his way?

 

Impatiently, Vic lowered his hand to tug at the hem of Mac's shirt. "Off," he demanded. "Take it off, Mac."

 

With a low grunt of approval, Mac struggled with the shirt. Vic rode the move out, loving the way the long, lean body undulated beneath him. A delighted smile bowed his pouty lips as the younger man wiggled delightfully. 

 

"Victor," Mac protested breathlessly. "You're not making this any easier." He pushed at Vic's shoulders with both hands. "Get up."

 

"Nope." Vic's grin widened. "I like where I am." He sighed and settled even more of his weight on Mac with a contented wriggle. "In fact, I like it a lot."

 

"Vi-ic," Mac whined. He stopped moving and fixed a reproachful brown gaze on the face smiling down at him. "The least you could do is help me out here..."

 

"Oh, believe me, I intend to, Ramsey," Vic promised in a raspy whisper, a rather devilish glint coming to his eye, one that Mac really hadn't seen before. Mac actually gulped, wondering what he had unleashed in Victor. And, for the first time, concerned whether or not he could handle it.

 

The phone rang, cutting into what Vic was about to say, making both men start guiltily and say, "Damn!" in unison.

 

"That *bitch*," Vic growled, the sound of it sending an arrow of lust darting through Mac's entire body.

 

Vic leaned over him, his eyes closed, a look of extreme annoyance marring his beautiful features... Mac caught himself grinning up at Vic like a mindless high-school kid with a crush. Let the Director just sweat this one out - for it couldn't be anyone else, not at this time of night.

 

But Vic sat up; moving back to sit on the end of the couch once more, catching his breath and listening as the answering machine cut in.

 

After Vic's brief, almost terse, greeting message, there was a pause. Then... silence. For several beats, nothing but silence. Such weight did that silence bear, Mac found himself staring at the machine with growing apprehension. He swallowed heavily and glanced up at Vic - only to find that his partner was glaring at the machine too.

 

"Victor," came the often hated, much feared and always to be avoided sound of the Director's voice, "and Mac." Heavy sigh. "Boys, I must say that, while I've been expecting this for quite some time, I DO hope that you'll not let your... hormones get the best of you."

 

Mac's mouth dropped open and he blinked. "Huh?" He turned to look at Vic. "What's she talking about?"

 

"I'm talking about safe sex, gentlemen," she answered smoothly.

 

Vic sighed and leaned his head back. "That's not why she's doing this," he insisted harshly. "She wants to ruin the *mood*!" This last word was hurled with surprising force and volume towards the ceiling.

 

Mac's body had that distant, anesthetized feeling that comes from too much alcohol and too much adrenaline. He was feeling no pain and found his 'care factor' hovering somewhere down around zero. He shrugged. "Hey, let her try, if she has to. She can't-" 

 

"I can and I will," the disembodied voice interjected. "I may not have been able to get you here before now but if you will insist on playing, you'll do so responsibly. I shouldn't have to remind you."

 

Mac stared, his jaw dropping. He looked up, automatically, at the glowing red dot. "You're giving us Sex-Ed lessons, now? Over the phone?" He grinned at the absurdity of it. "Hey, I'm game if you are, Vic. She can give us tips if we need help." 

 

But Vic swiftly sat up and stalked over to the answering machine, ripping the cord out of the wall and throwing the machine on the floor. It bleeped once but didn't appear to break.

 

He passed a weary hand over his face then stood, hands on his lean hips, as he studied the discarded hunk of electronics. "You know," he finally said contemplatively, "the worst of it is that she's obviously watching us. The timing's just too good." Looking over at Mac, he deliberated in silence for a moment. Apparently reaching a decision, he started for the bedroom, pulling off his shirt enroute and saying, "Are you coming in, or would you rather stay out here and sleep on the couch?"

 

"Hey," Mac protested, as Vic disappeared from view. Rising to his feet, he followed along in Victor's wake. Avoiding the shirt was easy. The jeans he nearly stumbled over in the doorway though, caught him by surprise. "Shit," he cursed, struggling to avoid falling when his feet became tangled in the heavy fabric.

 

"Hurry UP, Mac."

 

Hearing the bedsprings protest, Mac knew that Vic was already in the big bed. Forewarned was not, however, forearmed, in this instance. In fact, Mac concluded, there wasn't a warning in the world that could ever possibly prepare him to face a naked Victor, sprawled languidly on his side across the bedspread - waiting for him.

 

Mac moistened his suddenly dry-as-the-Sahara lips and seriously considered fainting dead away.

 

Vic watched him from under sinfully long eyelashes; his jade eyes the merest flash of color. Waiting until he was certain he had the younger man's attention, Victor raised the hand not propping up his head to his own tumescent cock, lazily stroking himself. After a moment, he released the now fully erect organ and held the hand out to Mac in imperious invitation. "Come here to me, Mac."

 

Mac moved woodenly forward, drawn to the sight like a sailing ship about to dash itself upon the rocks, lured by the siren's call of Vic's nakedness and the tone in his voice. Automatically divesting himself of his clothing as he went, Mac came to the edge of the bed and crawled onto it, devouring Vic with his eyes.

 

"I didn't know, I-." He stopped and cleared his throat. "I didn't think you were this beautiful," he stammered, wondering where he'd found the nerve to say THAT. Then wondered why the hell he was spouting bad poetry and decided to blame it on the liquor. But there was a niggling voice in the back of his head that said he'd always known exactly how beautiful Victor was. 

 

Vic blinked at him, obviously surprised at the statement. Nonetheless, he simply said, "Are you just going to sit there? How many times does one usually have to invite you to have sex with them, anyway?"

 

Suddenly remembering he prided himself on being an unflappable man of action, Mac forced himself to push his sense of awe aside before this amazing opportunity passed him by. 

 

Lurching into motion, Mac crawled forward until his knees were tight against Vic's chest. His legs folded under him, Mac leaned forward to trail a hand rather too reverently over the muscular shoulder, across the bare chest and cute belly, then up along the curve of rather lovely thighs and down to Vic's knee. Mac's eyes had followed the passage of his hand and now he looked back up to Vic's face, to see a large question mark dancing in bright green eyes.

 

Mac realized that now that he'd finally gotten something he'd been wishing for, he really had no idea what to do with it. Despite his womanizing reputation as a carouser and a smoothie, he'd never had much traffic with men. And despite the gossip that circulated at the Agency - the rumor mill had him doing everyone, regardless of gender, at least once - he'd not given the mechanics of such an undertaking much thought. 

 

And even if he had considered the idea of sex with men, Mac certainly hadn't considered Vic as even a remote possibility. He tried to dredge up some saliva as he licked his lips and said, lowly, "I want this, I want you." Mac suddenly regretted all the alcohol he'd consumed earlier, realizing that the drinks really weren't helping him now, and that he was making a complete and utter ass of himself in front of Victor. 

 

Hell, he thought bitterly, what else is new. I might as well go the whole mile. "I think I've wanted it for a long time." 

 

Dryly, Vic raised a brow at him and said, "Only just now figuring that out? Look, why don't get you get closer." Sitting up, he grabbed Mac by surprisingly tense shoulders and pulled until the younger man was completely wrapped in his arms. With a smooth, practiced move, Vic rolled them so that Mac was on the bottom once more.

 

Vic shook his head with a slight smile, looking down into Mac's wide, startled eyes. "You're new at this, aren't you?"

 

"I am not!" Mac tried for indignant but was embarrassed to hear the words come out as more of a breathless squeak. "I've probably had more sex than you," he added in an attempt at bravado.

 

"I mean with men, idiot," Victor teased, finding the flustered expression in the brown eyes as charming as the blush that painted the high cheekbones.

 

"Oh. Well, um, yeah," Mac reluctantly admitted, feeling more than a little vulnerable at this point.

 

Quickly closing his eyes, Vic shielded the triumph his now confirmed suspicions afforded him. No need to embarrass the kid, or even, god forbid, scare him off. Because he knew now - no more doubts - that Mac was a... Damn. He swallowed heavily, stunned at the arousal the mere thought of his partner's virginity caused. 

 

Hard on the heels of that wave of masculine satisfaction came the realization of the enormity of the trust Mac was showing in him. Mac was not a person to expose his weaknesses to anyone - not unless he trusted them completely. Then, to Vic's further dismay, the enormity of the trust he was offering to Mac became clear in his mind. This had suddenly become far more than just a drunken buddy fuck.

 

Mac's quiet voice broke into his reverie, "Vic?" The older man could hear the worried frown clearly in that one word.

 

"Shh," he hushed Mac. Opening his eyes, Vic smiled. He raised one hand and laid two fingers across Mac's lips. "We're fine," Vic murmured, gently tracing a line around that wonderfully pouty mouth. Moving slowly, he lowered his head so that he could map the line of Mac's neck with his teeth. He nibbled lightly at the smooth skin, stopping every inch or so to whisper to Mac.

 

"I want you, too," he assured.

 

"I need you," he admitted.

 

Mac tilted his head back at that, closing his eyes and baring his throat. The silent plea embedded in the simple gesture tore at something Vic had kept carefully hidden from himself.

 

 

He was offering Mac far more than kindness and caring. He was offering far more than mutual trust.

 

He was offering Mac everything.

 

"Please, Mac," Victor begged, suddenly overwhelmed by the strength of his feelings.

 

Riding the crest of Victor's amazingly effective seduction, Mac was way past thought, far beyond the ability to comprehend what Vic was requesting. He opened his eyes and looked back up at Vic, blinking a couple of times, trying to clear his fuddled mind. This all felt like a dream, an incredibly powerful and sensuous dream that was sweeping him away with the force of an unstoppable tide. 

 

What did Vic want? Why had he stopped that touching and kissing that felt so incredible? Meeting the older man's intense gaze, it finally dawned on him that he'd been asked a question. That Vic was asking permission to take this farther... To do more than merely rutting on each other, nakedly squirming on Victor's bed... 

 

And no one was more surprised than Mac when he realized it was exactly what he wanted. "Anything. Whatever you want, Victor."

 

Grinning, widely, easily, Mac tried to lighten the suddenly intense mood. "You didn't have to ask... Although, I do have to admit I like the way you sound when you're begging. It's kind of a new one for you." 

 

The bravado fading as quickly as it came, Mac lowered his eyes and shyly bit his lip, wondering what the next stage really was. "So, uh, how do we - what happens now?"

 

Vic swallowed. He hadn't really expected to be going all the way with this. In fact, to be honest, he hadn't expected to be here, period. But his own natural reticence - and the very real awareness that he'd been driven in here by his need to defy the Director - haunted him somewhat. Not to mention that both Mac *and* he might regret it later. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he decided to just lay everything out for his partner, to give him the opportunity to make an informed decision rather than being carried away by the heat of the moment. "Mac, I want to fuck you, I want to be inside of you when I come." Just saying the words was an incredible rush. "Are you up for that? I mean, really? And not just physically. Are you ready to face how this will change things? You're not going to go all weird in the morning and act like a despoiled virgin or anything, are you?" At Mac's frown, he added quickly, regretting the way that last bit had come out, "I just want you to be sure, is all." 

 

Mac's eyes narrowed as he realized Vic was offering HIM a way out. Jesus. Sometimes the guy was just too self-sacrificing for his own good. Mac snaked both hands up to grip Vic's face and bring him down to kiss him soundly. Heatedly. Letting them both up eventually for air, he said, "I'm sure, Vic. I'm really sure. All right?" 

 

That inner knot of doubt and tension released its hold on Vic and he smiled down at Mac. "Yeah," he said, slowly, huskily. "It's more than all right." And began to slide down Mac's length, all the way down his body.

 

Mac yelped as Vic's mouth opened on his hard cock, slowly sucking him in. Easily controlling Mac's helpless surge of response, Vic anchored the younger man in place with one hand on a slim hip and his own weight resting on the other hip and thigh. Self-preservation and logistics taken care of, Vic concentrated on driving Mac crazy.

 

Which - to Vic's complete lack of surprise - proved incredibly easy. Not to mention gratifying. Mac was hugely responsive - amazingly so, even. Whether this was the man's normal response in such situations, or a Vic-induced state, he didn't care. He just hung on, relishing every moan, every twitch, every single restless movement of Mac's hands as they roamed aimlessly over Vic's head, neck, and shoulders. He'd tensed when the long fingers had woven their way into his hair, but Mac never pushed or pulled, didn't insist. He only stroked, combed, caressed.

 

Opening his eyes and glancing up the long body, Vic caught Mac's dazed stare. Daring Mac to hold his gaze, Vic lowered his head, swallowing as the head of Mac's cock hit the back of his throat. Carefully, moving very slowly, Vic eased down until his lips brushed against wiry pubic hair. 

 

"Jesus," Mac breathed. 

 

 

Vic raised his head, a tiny increment at a time, filing away every gasp and reverent sigh from Mac in his memory for future contemplation and enjoyment. Teasingly, he released his hold on Mac's erection, nuzzling lightly along its length.

 

With a muffled groan, Mac couldn't help bucking upwards a little at the loss. "Jesus, please, Vic, come on, please," he whispered hoarsely.

 

Vic was grinning at him. Surely... he wouldn't leave him like this.... Mac's mind was whirling, suddenly concerned that this was some sort of perverse game of one-up-manship. The doubt crept over him, then was abruptly pushed aside as Vic gripped his cock firmly with one hand, saying, "Hold that thought. I need to get some things." 

 

Mac let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Vic wasn't just dicking with him... Well, yeah, he was, but he wasn't teasing. Or mocking. He wasn't planning to lead Mac on then leave him wanting. In fact, as he lay there and watched Vic rummaging around in several drawers of the bedside cabinet, Mac mused upon the fact that Vic seemed genuinely caring... And more than happy to take the lead. In fact, Vic did indeed seem to know what to do. Something about this lingered in his mind. In his lust-clouded, alcohol-addled state, he couldn't quite put his finger on why that was significant, but he could swear it had something to do with the fact that Vic seemed entirely TOO experienced, too okay with this. 

 

Vic was climbing back onto the bed, dressed in only a satisfied smile and bearing lube and a box of condoms.

 

Mac nearly opened his mouth to ask a snide question about the expiration date of the products and how long they'd been around when he suddenly realized he didn't want to. It was a habit, the sniping, and not a good one to indulge in right now.

 

Vic held up one of the condoms with a Cheshire grin and said, "This is your lucky night, Ramsey."

 

Mac stared at the package in stunned silence as the reality of just what he was allowing - hell, asking - Vic to do sank in. Swamped with nerves and wondering if there was a way to back out without coming off as a total idiot, Mac decided there were a few more things that really needed to be said and redirected his eyes, concentrating on a point just beyond Vic's right shoulder. v "I've never, ah, actually-" Mac closed his mouth, halting the stumbling words, and swallowed. "You'll be... careful?" he asked in a low tone, risking a glance at the features of the man hovering over him.

 

Vic smiled with a gentleness and reassurance Mac had never expected to see directed at him. And yet, there it was, backed by a heat that scorched through Mac's body, searing his nerve endings and stilling the butterflies in his stomach. 

 

Unable to do anything else, Mac arched under the intense green gaze, offering himself with a trust he'd never have suspected he had to offer. And Vic - *thank you, god, thank you* - stretched his body atop Mac's, claiming his mouth once more in a hungry kiss.

 

Distracted by the manipulations of Vic's tongue against his own, Mac hadn't the presence of mind to complain when the body that covered his so nicely shifted to one side. By the time his dazed brain registered the loss, one of Vic's hands had moved to caress his cock, tracing random patterns along the shaft.

 

The light touch was almost tickling, not enough to really provide any real satisfaction, and for a moment Mac again wondered what Vic was intending. But Vic retracted his hand and was suddenly busy with the condom, unrolling it onto his own hard erection and then taking up the lube to slather himself with it. With his other hand, Vic took Mac's leg and began to help him draw up his knee and spread his legs farther apart. 

 

"Need to get you ready for this, you know," Vic commented, that gentle smile still on his face, comforting and letting Mac know that this was pretty standard. Although it wasn't standard at all to feel Vic's strong, hot fingers slick with lube against the crack of his ass, one digit easing its way down to slide against his anus and gently slip inside, admitting just the tip. 

 

Mac couldn't help tensing at this, despite the fact that the pleasure was different, exciting in a completely mind-blowing way when he considered they were VIC'S fingers on, er, IN his ass. And just that single digit made him feel so full, he was suddenly sure he couldn't handle something bigger up there. Forget about something the size of Vic's rampant erection. But Victor was relentlessly, soothingly drawing just the one finger in and out, getting him used to the sensation. "You're so tight, so hot," Vic murmured, that smoky voice low and curling deep into Mac's body, making his cock suddenly leak and twitch in reaction. 

 

A predatory grin lit Vic's face as he realized that Mac was responding to his words. He leaned in a little closer to Mac's ear, continuing his probing and stretching of Mac's nether hole, saying, "Do you like this? Do you like having me inside you like this? Yeah, I think you do..." He added another finger, slowly. "I think you like it a lot." 

 

Mac inhaled harshly as his sphincter stretched to accommodate a second finger. "Breathe, Mac," Vic whispered into his ear. "That's it," he approved as Mac exhaled, relaxing into his touch. "Mmm," Vic hummed. "You're gonna love this. I promise you, I'll make it perfect."

 

He adjusted the angle of his invading fingers, turning and crooking them just so... And, yeah. Oh boy. Mac nearly bucked them both off of the bed in his enthusiastic response.

 

"Again," he demanded breathlessly. "Whatever that was, Vic, do it AGAIN."

 

Vic chuckled. "Patience is its own reward, grasshopper. I'll get us there. You just relax and let me-"

 

Mac bucked again, almost screaming as Vic dragged the tip of his middle finger over the sensitive gland, once, twice... a third time.

 

"Vic, stop." Mac warned urgently. "You have to," another stroke made Mac shudder and roll his head from side to side on the pillow. "Oh god, Vic...VIC!"

 

Vic, having absolutely no mercy in his soul, bent down and swallowed Mac's erection whole. 

 

"Oh FUCK," Mac groaned.

 

Vic's mouth was full, unable to comment, but his gaze rose again to fasten on Mac's face. Mac dragged air into his lungs, wondering why he hadn't exploded at the overload of sensations cartwheeling through him under Vic's extraordinary attentions. Vic's expression looked positively knowing and mischievous.

 

But the fingers were withdrawn suddenly and Mac cried out at the loss. "No - don't-"

 

Vic pulled his mouth away from Mac's cock with an audible slurp. "Nice. Don't worry, we're just getting started here." He took up a bit more lube and reapplied it to his cock. Then began to gather up Mac's legs, a hand under each knee. Moving into position, Vic said, "You want it? You want me inside you, Mac?"

 

Mac groaned. "Just fucking *do* it, Vic! Please!"

 

Vic was chuckling softly. "Slut," he whispered, a little endearingly, a little teasingly as he pressed the head of his cock to Mac's twitching anus. Vic was enjoying the way Mac was actively drawing both his knees up, waiting for him, exposing himself, his legs trembling.

 

With a slow and gentle movement of his hips, Vic started pushing his way past the tight ring of muscle guarding Mac's entrance. Vic remembered his own first time, he'd been excited, fearful, and curious in equal measures. And his partner had shown such patience - never rushing things, giving him plenty of time to grow accustomed to the new sensations - that he'd come out of the experience filled with warm pleasure and the knowledge that sex between men was something he wanted... needed. 

 

Vowing to himself that he would show Mac the same consideration, leave him with the knowledge that male sex was a wondrous experience - something to be shared and enjoyed without fear or shame - Vic gazed into Mac's eyes and smiled. "You okay?"

 

"Yeah," he gasped. "I'm fine, Vic." He drew in a deep breath as Vic's cockhead made its way past his sphincter. 

 

Vic paused, giving Mac a moment to grow accustomed to the reality of having a cock up his ass. "Relax for me, Mac. Deep breath... Yeah," Vic moaned as the tight muscle stretched to accommodate the girth of his penis. "You're perfect, Mac. Just perfect."

 

Mac was too drunk on Vic and the intensity of the moment to wonder what he meant by 'perfect'. And breathing seemed to be something that would have to take care of itself because the burning and overwhelming feeling of having Vic's cock enter him was too much - yet, somehow, not enough. He managed, with a moan, to gasp, "Vic, please, do it, fuck me..."

 

As Vic obediently slid another inch or two into him, so agonizingly slowly, Mac felt his bones go weak and melt. He belonged to Vic now, just a willing and limp body filled with pleasure and wild sensation. He'd never imagined exactly what it would be like, and the reality was far beyond anything he had expected. He was abruptly grateful that Vic was being so patient - in his place, Mac wasn't sure he'd have the same restraint.

 

"Vic," Mac whined. "What's taking so long? I want you to fuck me NOW."

 

"Easy, babe. Trust me, you don't want me to rush this!" Vic ran his hands over Mac's torso, delighting in the unaccustomed feel of the soft hair on his chest, toying with the hard little nipples. "Just relax. I'll take care of you."

 

And his words seemed to serve as a sort of tranquilizer on the younger man. He relaxed under Vic's ministrations, and his complete trust in Vic's promise shone in his eyes. Suddenly, easily - as if this was meant to be - Vic's cock slid smoothly into that silken passage.

 

"Oh my god, Vic," Mac said huskily, "this is... you're... Damn!" Brown eyes reflected Mac's awe. His joy. His pleasure.

 

Vic grinned down at his lover. "I'll take that as a compliment," he murmured. "Now, are you ready for the main event?"

 

"Jesus, Vic - you mean there's more?"

 

"Oh yeah. Much more, Mac." 

 

As Vic began to move, rocking gently in and out, Mac groaned at the feeling of being filled by Vic's cock as well as the jolt he felt throughout his body when that magic spot inside of him was stimulated. And Vic kept doing it, relentlessly, slowly. Mac was open-mouthed, his world now centered only on the man possessing him. The Director could drop in through the ceiling, arrange a pay-per-view crowd - Dobrinsky could arrive and give a running commentary and he wouldn't give a damn.

 

Fervently, Mac gasped, "Fuck."

 

Vic's grin took on slightly more evil proportions. "Yeah, gonna fuck you now, Mac. You ready?" And pulling back slightly, he thrust into him more forcefully, deeper into Mac's ass, smiling at the way Mac whimpered under him and squirmed.

 

"Jesus, Vic, if I were any more ready I'd explode," Mac panted.

 

"I'm not hurting you?"

 

Wrapping his legs around Vic's back, pulling him even closer, Mac hissed with pleasure. "Dammit, Mansfield, just get on with it already. You feel... This is..."

 

Vic rotated his hips and Mac gasped as the head of that wonderful invader brushed against his prostate again. "Oh, god," Mac moaned. "Do that again. Harder. More."

 

And for once, no arguments, no protestations - Vic did exactly as he'd asked. Nearly overcome by the repeated stimulation of that sensitive little gland, amazed that this was VIC giving him such pleasure, Mac couldn't stay the sounds coming from deep in his chest. Sounds of pleasure beyond anything he'd ever experienced in his life. Unable to take his eyes off of Vic's intense face, Mac stared up at his partner with a desperate need. 

 

"Vic," he managed to say in an embarrassingly begging tone. "Shit, don't stop - I'll DIE if you stop." He released his death grip on the bedspread to reach down with one shaking hand to stroke his own cock, not even aware of what he was doing.

 

"Ah ah," Vic admonished, knocking Mac's hand aside. "That's mine."

 

Whimpering, Mac flailed momentarily, then his hand returned to grab at the cover on the bed, bunching it tightly in his fists.

 

Vic began to let go now, letting his hips take over with the deeper thrusts that he had been desperately holding back. Sliding easily in and out of that tight, clenching, hot little ass, grinding, rotating into Mac with every push forward, harder, faster... Loving the open-mouthed cries as Mac's eyes squeezed shut, muscles tensed and little shudders running through him under Vic's attentions. 

 

Vic had to bite his lip, and tried to remember that he wanted this to last. Keeping an even rhythm, he pumped his cock into Mac slowly, wanting the incredible sensations to continue as long as possible. But, DAMN, he was so close, so very close.

 

Adjusting his weight, Vic wrapped one hand around Mac's weeping erection and started stroking. He closed his eyes, concentrating on making this last just one more moment... two... three... Sparks danced before his eyes as he held back his orgasm by sheer dint of will.

 

"YES!" Mac yelled, arching into his touch and sobbing his pleasure. "Vic... Oh, god, Vic ... There! Just there..."

 

It was too much. The overload of Mac's cries and his bucking under Vic joined the almost painful need to fuck himself senseless in Mac's welcoming ass. With his cock sheathed in that undulating, hot channel, Vic was coming; slamming into Mac again and again, his own voice rising to mingle with Mac's and echo around the room.

 

He automatically jerked Mac's cock in time with each thrust, reveling in the wave of pleasure that splashed all throughout his body as he climaxed, Mac coming under him at virtually the same moment.

 

The need for air finally brought Mac out of his post-fuck daze. "Vic," he rasped in a hoarse voice. "Can't breathe."

 

Moving sluggishly, Vic slid to one side, pulling out of the younger man and disposing of the condom. After dropping it carelessly onto the floor, he pulled Mac's sweaty body close and nuzzled at his hair. Inhaling deeply, enjoying the almost forgotten odors of male sweat and spilled semen, Victor allowed himself another moment of languid repose. Finally, he pulled back so that he could see his young lover's face. "You okay, Mac?" he asked hesitantly. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

 

Mac snorted, "I'm fine, Vic. Shit, "fine" doesn't begin to cover it. That was ... well, it was something I'll never forget - you may have ruined me for other lovers."

 

Vic was silent for so long Mac started to worry. Prying open one heavy eyelid, he tried to focus on the nearby features. "Was it okay for you, Vic? Did I do -- was I all right?"

 

"Oh yeah, Mac," Vic was quick to reassure. "You were perfect. It's been a long time and you were - damn - I can't imagine a better lover."

 

Mac was quiet, Vic's words ringing into a sudden empty stillness. It was as if both men had just heard the recently spoken words and were just beginning to understand their significance.

 

Vic cleared his throat and whispered, "C'mon, let's enjoy this moment - no regrets, no thinking, no talking - just for what it is, you know?" He stopped, pausing and licked his lips. "Maybe we should get some sleep. Let's get under the covers."

 

Feeling like he had been fucked upside down, sideways and back to front from last Thursday into next week, Mac obediently crawled in beside Vic, who turned off the light and then snuggled against him.

 

Vic's voice was low. "Mac?"

 

Drifting in a haze of post-coital bliss, Mac was slow to respond. "Hmmm?" he finally asked drowsily.

 

"You don't feel like I coerced you in any way... Do you?"

 

That opened Mac's eyes in a hurry. "Coerced? Are you kidding me, Vic? I was with you all the way."

 

"Yeah... but I started it - kissed you first - I was pretty aggressive..." 

 

Mac raised his head, meeting Vic's questioning look with one of assurance. "Vic, you didn't do ANYTHING I didn't want you to do - I've wanted you for ages. Lucky for me, you recognized that and acted on it."

 

Vic was quiet. Then he grinned. "Ages, huh? I WAS right." He kissed Mac, holding his lips prisoner for a while before pulling away and adding, "You let me know if you feel like a little coercion later on then."

 

Mac chuckled, low in his throat. "Oh, I think I'd be up for it. Later. Once my ass recovers. God, Vic, you're hung."

 

Vic snickered at him. "I did ask if you were okay."

 

Mac answered, dryly, "Yeah, well, we'll see how it is when the shoe's on the other foot. Or in this case, the other dick. I've had to watch YOUR ass bouncing along the halls for too long now."

 

A jolt of arousal shot through Vic's body at the words. "Any time, Mac. Any time."

 

Mac licked his lips. "Really? You mean that you'd..."

 

"Not a case of would, Mac." Vic answered seriously. "I want you to fuck me - I'd LOVE for you to fuck me."

 

Brown eyes opened wide in stunned amazement. "You do? You would?"

 

"But," Vic sighed with regret, "I think I've shot my wad for this evening. The spirit is willing, however the flesh..."

 

"In the morning, then?" Mac asked eagerly.

 

"Mmm," Vic agreed sleepily. "In the morning."

 

Mac yawned and smiled sheepishly. "'m tired, Vic."

 

"Then go to sleep," Vic said. He pulled Mac down to rest against him and closed his eyes.


	2. part 2 Post Mortem

If he could only remember where he'd left his gun last night, Mac would have gotten out of bed, taken said gun and shot the sonofabitch that was sawing logs in his bedroom. 

 

Unfortunately, not only could he not remember where the hell his weapon was, he couldn't recall anything at all about last night. Nothing. Nada. 

 

And the way his head was pounding warned him that sudden movement would probably be the death of him. Which, he decided, as the unknown lumberjack switched to using a chainsaw, might be a damn fine idea. 

 

He'd just about made up his mind that he'd HAVE to get up and kill the guy, no matter how much said activity increased the throbbing in his head, when a warm body rolled up next to him - and snored right in his ear. The start of surprise this caused was nothing compared to the shocked jolt he felt when an arm draped itself over his midsection and a chin rubbed against his right shoulder. A scratchy chin. A beard-stubbled chin. 

 

What the fuck!? Just what the hell had he brought home with him last night? Lifting his head to peer blearily through scratchy eyes that watered and burned with the need for more sleep, Mac blinked. Then blinked again. Then he rubbed his eyes. 

 

Nope, hadn't helped the view. It was still Vic. Vic, in bed, with him. Sleeping beside him.... What the hell? 

 

"Vic, will you please STOP?" Mac groaned in a pathetic whimper. "Knock it off. You're killing my head." 

 

Victor, with an irritating lack of consideration, ignored him totally and kept on snoring. 

 

Annoyed now beyond all ability to remain civil, Mac jerked up a knee and roughly pushed the clinging man away. Mac's knee connected rather hard with some part of Vic, but he wasn't too concerned about what part as long as it got the other man's buzzsaw of a snore out of his ear. Victor, however, seemed to take exception. 

 

Shooting up in the bed with a suppressed gasp and flailing limbs, Vic was momentarily entangled in the covers, nearly pulling them off Mac. "What?" he croaked, his usually deep voice raspy and hoarse. Blinking dazed green eyes, he focused on Mac's scowling features and groaned, "Jesus. What the hell's your problem?" The next instant, not waiting for a reply, he folded in on himself, clutching his head in both hands. "Jesus," he moaned again. Clearly Mac wasn't the only one whose head was throbbing for attention this morning. 

 

Mac groused, "My problem is you! Keep it down, can't you?" The pain in his own head was blinding, making coherent speech problematic and not helping his temper one bit. Taking one shaky hand from its deathgrip on his abused head, Vic reached under the cover to rub, Mac suspected, whatever portion of his anatomy he'd kneed. 

 

Mac felt a brief flare of guilt as he watched the older man grimace. With that fair skin, he'd have a bruise for sure. Keeping his voice low in apparent deference to the headache he seemed to have, Victor asked, "Ramsey, what the hell are you doing in my bed?" 

 

Widening his focus beyond the main source of his current irritation, Mac realized that Vic was right. This was Vic's apartment. Vic's bedroom. Hell, Vic's bed.... What WAS he doing in Vic's bed? Mac's eyes widened and his headache escalated as snatches of memory from the previous night began to filter back through the alcoholic haze that still hung in his mind like thick fog. They were followed quickly with a sense of wounded pride. Oh shit.

 

Bad. Whatever Mac was thinking about was bad. Very, very bad, Vic decided, with a growing sense of dread. No possible way was he up to talking about - well, anything, really. Not with this hangover. Not with the way his head was pounding and his stomach was roiling. Especially when one quick glance into Mac's eyes revealed doubt and regret... and something else - something he wasn't even gonna TRY to identify. Whatever it was, it would just have to wait. 

 

As soon as he came back from the dead (surely he couldn't be ALIVE and feel this awful) he'd talk with Mac. He'd willingly discuss whatever thorny problem was clearly preying on the younger man. Right now, though- 

 

With a groan, Vic closed his eyes, returning his head into the cradle of both hands. As much as he'd like to continue denying it, it was becoming more and more apparent that he WAS alive, that it WAS possible to feel this horrible and not be dead - or, at least, near death. Gathering his strength and taking deep, even breaths through his nose until his shaky system settled a bit, Vic unwillingly accepted that crawling back under the warm covers was not an option. 

 

Based on the intensity of the stare he could feel Mac directing at his bowed head, his partner was not going to wait on whatever it was he wanted to talk about until Victor was feeling more human. That being the case, he needed aspirin, coffee and a shower, not necessarily in that order. Rolling out of bed, Vic stumbled into the bathroom in search of aspirin and a big glass of water. 

 

Naked. Vic was NAKED. VIC was naked. And Mac knew that as soon as the older man woke up enough for the realization of THAT to penetrate his hangover, Mac was a dead man. He carefully lifted the edge of the sheet and peeked underneath, immediately confirming and compounding his feeling of impending doom. Vic wasn't the only one sleeping au natural. 

 

Okay, so, not a dream. Not an alcohol-induced hallucination. The vague recollections that were becoming clearer as adrenaline burned through his system had really happened. 

 

The implications of this were far-reaching and terrifying. He didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to do, in fact, was turn over and go back to sleep. Sleep was a tried and true method of avoidance and well worth dragging out of early retirement. Suiting action to thought, Mac burrowed under the covers and the pillows, enjoying the sensation of the soft cotton against his skin. Mm-mm...the bed smelled kinda nice actually... 

 

His eyes shot open again at this realization. It smelled nice because it was Victor's, in fact, the bedding sort of smelled like Victor. And the image of his partner getting out of this exact bed, naked, was branded onto his retinas and burned into his brain. He could hear the sounds of Vic opening and shutting the bathroom cabinet and then the sounds of Vic relieving himself in the toilet. The sound was oddly intimate and fueled the scarlet blush that covered Mac's face in a flush of heat. It was also enough to galvanize him out of the warm covers and off the bed. With a pounding head he gingerly collected up his clothes and began hurriedly fumbling to put them on. He didn't want to be undressed when Vic emerged. 

 

In fact, he didn't want to be HERE when Vic emerged. To that end, Mac finished dressing, scurrying from the bedroom and into the living room. Snatching up his jacket, Mac began patting down the pockets for his keys as he moved through the apartment door. 

 

Coming up empty, he absently repeated the search...then remembered that his car was not here. Fuck! 

 

The door swung open behind him, and Mac just KNEW it was Vic. He could smell him - could FEEL him. 

 

"Mac...?" 

 

Shoulders slumped in defeat, Mac shrugged. "I KNOW, Vic," he said grumpily. "Car's not here - and... SHIT! Go ahead and say it - I'm a wimp. I just... I didn't know how to face you this morning." Slowly, he turned to face his partner. "I... uh, got any aspirin?" he asked hopefully, careful not to actually meet Vic's eyes. "Coffee? Morphine?" 

 

Victor had come into the living room expecting to find Mac sprawled on the couch or pacing in front of the windows. He'd planned to send Mac to the kitchen for coffee while he took a quick shower. Surprise didn't begin to cover what he'd felt when he saw his partner, fully but hurriedly dressed, scurrying out his apartment door with the guilty stealth of a rat abandoning a sinking ship. 

 

Standing framed in the open doorway, Vic regarded the younger man steadily. Mac looked ravaged, both inside and out. No doubt his ass was hurting too, a reminder of last night. A little frown creased between his eyes as he said, "Sure, Mac. If you come back inside you can have all those things. And guess what? As a special bonus, considering our hangovers, I won't even make you talk about anything." 

 

Mac gave him an embarrassed smile. "Gee, thanks, Vic." The tone was a stab at his usual sarcasm but both men noticed it fell far short. 

 

Vic snorted and turned to hold the door open for him. 

 

Mac went back inside. Vic shut the door behind them and said, "Take off your coat and stay awhile. There's coffee in the kitchen. It's on a timer - should be just about ready. But I think you're going to have to make do without the morphine." 

 

Vic preceded the younger man into the kitchen as he talked and reached into a cabinet to take out a clean glass. Picking up a nearly depleted bottle from the counter, he filled the glass with a small amount of whisky. 

 

Mac watched him with consternation. "What are you doing?" 

 

"Hair of the dog," Vic muttered, downing the glass in one smooth movement. He licked his lips and glanced at Mac. "Doesn't really help the hangover - you just don't care as much." 

 

Mac frowned at him. "But you just had aspirin..." 

 

Vic shook his head. "Somehow, all things considered, I think this is more medicinal. Think about it. We have to go to work. Both of us. And face whatever bullshit busy work they come up with. Ever heard of fortification?" 

 

"Awww, FUCK! Work? Do we have to? Couldn't you say I died suddenly?" 

 

Vic smirked as he reached for another coffee mug. "No, Mac - LiAnn, remember? We have to go see her." 

 

"In that case, make it a double - hell, make it a triple!" Mac groaned. 

 

"Ri-iight, Mac. The Director would just love that, now wouldn't she?" 

 

"Vii-iic," Mac whined pitifully. "Did you have to bring up her name? Remind me of - " his eyes opened wide in sudden recollection. "Jesus," he said hopelessly. "She called last night. She fucking CALLED us, Vic!" He collapsed into a chair and buried his face in both hands. "We're fucked, partner. We are SO fucked!" 

 

Vic raised his brows at Mac's dramatic histrionics. "Yeah. Totally. You got that right. We fucked each other too. But I guess we don't need to go there." He poured out two coffees and brought one steaming mug over to where Mac sat, slouched in despair. 

 

Mac wasn't meeting his eyes, but Vic realized that neither of them was up to handling that part yet. Sipping cautiously, he sat down on the couch. "She won't let this go, you know. We need to form some kind of strategy, together." He winced as he realized that they were sitting in the wrong room for this discussion. She had it bugged. Then he sighed and sat back, making himself comfortable. Taking another gulp of hot coffee, he said, mildly, "You might as well have a shower here. Help yourself." 

 

Mac looked nervous again though, at this suggestion. "I really need to get home, get a change of clothes," he mumbled toward the carpet. 

 

Vic tried to hide the hurt that went through him at this. He was trying, he really was. He didn't want Mac to run, nor did he want to embarrass Mac by rubbing his face in what had happened between them before he was ready to discuss it. But Mac was acting like Vic was going to use it against him. 

 

Quietly, he replied, "You could give me a little credit, here. I'm hardly going to corner you in the shower and take advantage of you. Or are you upset that I wouldn't?"

 

Mac winced at the softly spoken accusation. He knew he was hurting Vic's feelings, knew that he wasn't handling this well. Damn. That had been one of the major reasons he'd been so keen to sneak away without Vic knowing. "Oh hell, Vic. I just... dammit, this is... I'm trying, here. But, this is so fucking weird - I just don't know what to say - how to act. I mean - where do we go from here - DO we go anywhere? And, if so, how?" At a loss, he looked to Vic for answers. "You seemed to know a whole lot more about... " 

 

Cutting himself off as the probability of listening devices occurred, Mac grimaced at Vic. "Look, let's go out - for breakfast. There's a dining room at the hospital!" he said with sudden inspiration. "Let's go there - kill two birds, y'know. And - we can pick up my car on the way to the Agency." It wasn't much of a solution but it was better than providing more free entertainment to the voyeur they called "boss."

 

So - the hospital cafeteria. After they'd gone through the line, each choosing a light and bland breakfast, the two chose a table over by the windows, and then stared fixedly at their food as if looking for inspiration. 

 

Mac cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, Vic, I don't suppose you'd like to discuss this - your experience - where you got it. And how... Have you always been bi?" 

 

Vic grimaced, toying with a fork. "Labels are fun, aren't they?" He really didn't want to delve deeply into his past, regardless of how it might be the only thing that would allay Mac's doubts and insecurities. He was having enough trouble with this new turn in their relationship himself. He really didn't have any desire to start opening the can of worms that was his past. 

 

Vic looked up at Mac, noting how his partner still kept averting his face and refusing to meet his gaze. "Mac?" He waited until Mac looked back at him. 

 

"Yeah?" 

 

"I... look, Mac, my past - or the details of my past, are not exactly what I wanted to get into this morning. I don't think either of us are up to it." At Mac's crestfallen expression, Vic sighed. "Yeah, I'm bi - and I've known since I was a teenager. Good enough for now?" 

 

"Yeah, yeah," Mac mumbled, suddenly finding his fork to be of extreme interest. "Sorry, Vic, didn't mean to push. I'm just at such a loss. Everything I'd assumed about my preferences got turned on end last night and I - " With a sigh, Mac broke off his rambles. "Never mind. I'll work it out." 

 

Vic leaned forward. "Mac, look at me." 

 

When Mac finally glanced up to meet his eyes, Vic offered a smile. "I didn't mean we could NEVER discuss it - me, I mean. Just not now, okay? But, Mac... you're the same man today that you were last night. You haven't suddenly started seeing me as different somehow, have you?" 

 

Mac thoughtfully regarded Vic. "No, no I haven't. I just-" He stopped with a frustrated sigh. "I don't know what to expect." 

 

Vic bit out a short laugh. "Yeah, I hear you. Me neither. We should play it by ear, I think." 

 

Mac answered, "And it's none of her business." 

 

Vic shuddered. "Agreed." 

 

Mac hesitated. "And LiAnn..." 

 

Vic frowned. "Until we get this sorted out between us, I don't see any reason why she needs to know, either." 

 

"Unless the Director tells her, which she undoubtedly will," Mac pointed out. 

 

A dark look crossed Vic's face. "It isn't really any of her business." 

 

A voice beside them, hateful in it's familiarity, interrupted them. "Actually, it is. Everything you do is my business." The Director stood there, tapping one long red nail against her arm, where she looked down at them, her arms folded. 

 

"For your information, we were talking about LiAnn," Vic informed her in an even tone. "But, now that you mention it - as long as we keep our... um, relationship outside of the workplace, what's the problem?" 

 

"Boys, boys," she shook her head in apparent despair. "When will you ever learn? Your lives belong to me. " 

 

Too tired to argue the matter - yet again - Vic sighed and looked at Mac. "Anything else, boss?" 

 

"Yes." 

 

Fuck! Mac moved his plate and leaned forward, resting his head on the tabletop. "What?" He asked with weary resignation. 

 

"LiAnn," she said, as if unable to believe they could possibly be so dense. 

 

"What about her?" Vic finally asked when no further comment was forthcoming. 

 

"Well, while you two lovebirds are happily chirping away down here, lining your new nest, LiAnn is upstairs, wondering why no one except for Dobrinsky and myself have been to see how she is faring." 

 

Vic stared at the Director with some amazement. 

 

Mac spluttered, "What?! We - we stayed for hours yesterday, waiting to make sure she would be okay! They had to throw us out! We-" 

 

Vic stopped him, cutting in with a glare at the Director. "We were just on our way up to see her. How is she? Has her condition changed?" 

 

She smirked in that annoying way of hers. "I suggest you two go on up to her room and see for yourselves. IF you can tear yourself away from this nauseatingly romantic scene." 

 

In chorus, both men spat, "Fine". Throwing their napkins to the table, they turned to leave. 

 

"Oh, and boys..." 

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This bitch was never happy until she had the last word. "Yes?" Vic asked tersely, deliberately not turning to face her. 

 

"WHEN - not if - I tell LiAnn about your new... romance - I will do so with good reason. " 

 

Uh huh, riiight, thought Mac. Knew better than to actually say it aloud, though. No need to go looking for even more trouble right now. Besides - no matter what reason she might have - whatever argument they might put forth was simply wasted effort. 

 

She paused with a thoughtful tilt of her head. "Although, she may work it out all on her own. You two do make a rather...fetching couple." The Director smiled coolly and brushed past them, her heels making a staccato statement in her wake. 

 

Vic sighed. Mac frowned. They turned to exchange a glance. The level of camaraderie and unspoken understanding in it was more than enough to reassure Vic that they would be able to carry on for a while longer without a return of Mac's earlier reaction to their tryst the night before. 

 

When they reached the door to LiAnn's hospital room, they crept quietly and cautiously inside. 

 

LiAnn lay there, looking pale and wan. She looked over at them and smiled weakly. "Hey. I've been wondering where you were." 

 

They both started talking at once, realized how guilty that sounded, then stopped. Vic waited for Mac, who turned to her and said, "We stayed all day yesterday, just to make sure you were going to be okay. We came over as soon as we got up." LiAnn frowned at him, looking at them both like they were crazy. "What are you - why are you all worked up? I wasn't being critical. I didn't expect to find you camped out in my room." 

 

Mac considered her - and thought about his response. "Well," he offered carefully, "we just wanted you to know that we were worried, that we wouldn't desert you." 

 

"Actually," Vic ventured, more than a little stung by her dismissive attitude, "I think we're more upset about your "little accident" than you are." 

 

"Jeez, guys," she sighed and rolled her eyes, "it was a car accident. I don't know that it merited all this angst. You act like you already held the wake." 

 

Mac tried, he really did, but he wasn't able to suppress the blush he felt rising in his face. And LiAnn didn't miss it, oh no, not that eagle-eyed little miss. With years of long practice, she read her "brother" like an open book, suspicion narrowing her eyes. "Just what did you two get up to last night after you were sure I was "going to be okay"?" If anything, Mac's blush intensified. "On second thought, I'm not sure I even want to know what happened after you left." Her eyes traveled to Vic and it was clear his uncomfortable expression was duly noted. 

 

Studiously avoiding her sharp gaze, Vic shuffled his feet and mumbled to the floor, "We went out to a bar... and got drunk - that's what happened." 

 

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Together?" 

 

"Yes, together," Mac huffed. "You got a problem with that?" 

 

Vic put one hand on Mac's lower back in an unobtrusive show of support. "Easy, Mac. Can't exactly blame LiAnn here - we're not known to spend our off-duty hours together." 

 

Mac huffed and turned towards the window. Winced as the sharp sunlight sent agonizing shards into his brain and reached for his sunglasses. "Sorry, LiAnn. I'm just - I have the most god-awful hangover." Mac grasped gratefully for the excuse, "You know that makes me cranky." 

 

Vic sent him a warning glare. Too much information, damn it. "We waited here for hours yesterday - then hit a local bar for a drink or two. That's all, no big deal." 

 

"Mmmm," LiAnn murmured as her eyelids drooped sleepily. She was loath to give up this fascinating line of inquiry, especially when her sluggish mind kept insisting there was something a little "off" about their story, but the pain medication was kicking in again. "Need a nap, guys. Sorry." 

 

"No problem, we understand," Vic assured her, more than grateful for the reprieve. "We'll come back a little later, okay? Gotta get to work now anyway." 

 

A sigh was the only answer.

 

In Vic's truck on the way back to the bar to pick up Mac's car, Vic muttered, "Way to go, hero. You really aroused her suspicions back there. Ever heard of playing things low-key?" 

 

Mac couldn't dredge up the energy for his customary snappy comeback, merely continued to stare straight ahead from behind his dark glasses. "Could you speak more quietly, please? My head still hurts." 

 

Vic shot him a look of disbelief, more than a little dismayed that this was the way his partner was choosing to handle things. "Have it your own way, you always do. You're the master of denial, after all. Anything that's uncomfortable or inconvenient gets ignored. You've made quite a name for yourself, you know, always sidestepping the issues." 

 

Mac didn't turn his head. But he smiled a little. "Yeah, and you'd know about that, wouldn't you, Victor? You're so well known for jumping in and confronting those thorny issues. No avoidance in your personal history, is there, Mr. Straight and Narrow." 

 

Vic scowled at the road in front of them. There was plenty he wanted to say, but, considering how he felt like something you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoe and his temper was frayed almost to the breaking point, now didn't really seem like a good time. Without a doubt he'd say something he'd later regret. Just at that moment they reached the bar, and fortunately, Mac's abandoned car looked untouched. 

 

"Can you manage to get to work?" Vic asked grudgingly. The question didn't have the compassionate ring to it that it'd had the last time he'd asked it. 

 

Mac turned an implacable face to him, his expression unreadable behind the dark glasses. It was as though he was already practicing his cool, reserved and thoughtful countenance, the "everything's fine" face he was going to show to others. 

 

Huh, wonder how long he'll be able to keep that up. 

 

Mac said, "I've been taking care of myself a long time. I think I'll manage. You'll find out when I get to the office."

 

The rest of the day passed in an uncomfortable silence. Vic sulking. Mac sulking. Neither talking any more than was absolutely necessary. To each other, or to anyone else. 

 

And both suffering from massive hangovers. Which, to their mutual chagrin, every goddamned person in the Agency seemed to find vastly amusing. 

 

Finally, the afternoon arrived and they escaped. None too soon at that, as fragile tempers were worn gossamer thin, and one more remark from Dobrinsky just might have led to physical violence from one or both of them. 

 

As he arrived at his truck, keys in hand to unlock the door, Vic looked over at Mac. Coincidentally, his car was parked in the next space over. "So?" 

 

"So what?" 

 

Now that they were no longer under the watchful eyes of the other Agency employees, the tension that had been underlying the entire day began to show through the cracks in their reserve. Vic was the first to give in to the strain. He was too tired to deal with Mac's insecurity and avoidance right now. Also, he was wondering, with the usual clarity of hindsight, if it had been a good idea in the first place to play the 'experienced bi' to Mac's 'virgin oh-please-take-me' routine. 

 

"Jesus, Mac! What do you mean, what? Don't you think we should at least talk about this?" 

 

Mac stared at him. "What the hell has gotten into you? All I said was what. WHAT is wrong with that?" 

 

Fuming slightly, both at Mac for playing dumb and at himself for losing his cool, Vic growled, "You've been avoiding it all day. Ever since this morning. I've given you the space because I figured it was only fair, seeing as you were-" 

 

"Were what? I was what, Vic? Go on, I want to hear this one," Mac said, a little incredulously, his own anger breaking through the calm facade. 

 

Vic didn't answer for a long moment. He was breathing harder and finally he gave a frustrated sigh. Swallowing, he fully turned to face Mac and looked him in the eye. "I was going to say "hung over and not feeling well", but since you're dead set on being confrontational, let's say what's on both our minds. You were inexperienced, Mac, okay. You were the novice, the virgin -- with men, anyway. And I -" 

 

"And you WHAT?" 

 

Vic slammed one hand on the hood of his truck. "I fucking took advantage, okay? Happy now, Mac?" He was practically shouting. "I should never have let it happen. I'm an idiot and I should have left you the fuck alone!" Opening his truck with unwonted force, Vic climbed in. "A damned delusional idiot," he growled quietly to himself as he jammed the key into the ignition. 

 

With a roar, the engine turned over and Vic put it in gear. Fuck this shit. He'd had enough. More than enough! When Mac crossed the small space between the two vehicles and pounded on his window, it was all Vic could do to NOT run the self-centered little bastard over. 

 

Exercising great control over his temper and keeping his gaze resolutely forward, Vic carefully pulled away - making sure that he gave NO sign that Mac's repetitive cries of "Vic" were heard. He didn't even look into the rearview mirror, knowing all too well that Mac stood there gazing after him with those damned hurt puppy-dog eyes. 

 

He left Mac, the Agency, the Director, LiAnn and everything else behind, concentrating on the road and the traffic. He drove, trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing, that it was only sensible to give himself some distance from what had happened. But that was the problem, wasn't it? Mac was so much part of every aspect of his life, he couldn't distance himself from the other man. They worked together, spent all their time together. Was it so surprising that he'd fallen into the other man's arms the night before. Fallen? Hell, who was he trying to kid. He'd sat down next to Mac, knowing full well that he was extremely drunk and very confused, and pulled the man into his embrace. And it had felt damned good, just right. Victor remembered the sensations well, despite the alcohol binge. 

 

Vic felt his conscience nudge him, heard a tiny voice that whispered, 'he wanted you and you took advantage of that'. Yeah. It had felt nice to be wanted. But had the younger man really wanted VIC, or had he just wanted the solace of a warm body, the imagined comfort of someone who cared when LiAnn so obviously didn't. 

 

Realizing his mind was running in circles, that he was worrying this problem like a dog working a juicy bone, Vic wondered if he wasn't just doing exactly what he'd just accused Mac of: running, hiding... 

 

A glance in the rearview mirror made him do a double take. There was no mistaking it though; Mac's car was behind him. Damn it! Didn't that man know how to take a brush-off gracefully. Mac had probably been tailing him the whole time, and now, here they were, nearly at Vic's place once again. Another glance didn't tell him much about his partner's state of mind; Mac was wearing his shades again and seemed focused simply on driving the racy sports car. On consideration, Vic decided it might be a good sign that the young thief had been content to merely follow Vic's truck and hadn't taken advantage of his inattention to force him off the road or ram him at a stoplight. 

 

With a grim little smile, Victor covered the last few blocks to his apartment. It appeared they were going to have the $64,000 conversation after all. 

 

By the time he pulled up in front of his building, Vic was again livid. He didn't stop to wonder why he was so angry. He merely put the truck into park, with a little more force than was strictly necessary, turned off the engine and bolted out of the cab. Slamming the vehicle's door behind him, Vic went to stand beside Mac's car, his arms folded and his foot tapping impatiently until Mac finally opened his door and began to unfold his gangly frame from behind the wheel. 

 

"WHAT?" Victor growled at Mac. "What do you want? WHY are you here?" 

 

Pulling off his glasses, Mac allowed Vic an unobstructed view of his expression. Instead of the expected anger or smug attitude, Vic was surprised to see a look of frustrated confusion. A look that clearly spoke of hurt feelings. "Look, Victor... I don't understand," the younger man began. "Why are you so angry? Why did you just storm off like that? Is this about earlier? About what I said to LiAnn, maybe? I didn't mean to make her suspicious; I just didn't know what to say. 

 

"I - DAMMIT, Vic - I don't want to lose - I mean, don't you think we should talk? About last night? Or, was the whole thing just a drunken mistake? Am I not what you want - not your type - so undesirable that you regret last night? Should I go away - should we just forget it? Is that what you want?" 

 

"I CAN'T forget, Mac... that's the fucking problem," Vic snarled. "I took advantage - can't forget THAT. And I am very much afraid of you waking tomorrow and coming to the realization that I used you. That I used your vulnerability over LiAnn's injury to take something you wouldn't have otherwise even thought to offer. 

 

"Don't you understand, Mac? I feel guilty. Guilty that I pushed you into something that wasn't fair to you. I'm afraid you'll start to hate me, that this will cost me your friendship - affect our partnership." 

 

The words hurt. But Mac pushed that pain aside and forced himself to mull over Vic's statement, taking a few moments to allow the words to sink through his tangled emotions, to give Vic's concerns the full consideration they deserved. It was hard; seriously hard to evaluate whether or not the older man had taken advantage of his shaky emotional state, when all he felt was a surge of relief. So, I'm not alone. I'm not the only one who doesn't know how to act about this. Truthfully, Vic's admission had brought him sudden relief. Relief that he wasn't alone in his fears. But hard on the heels of that feeling came a gut-wrenching certainty that if they didn't talk this out now the amazing possibilities last night had shown him would fade into nothingness. 

 

"Vic - listen to me. The only way this can ruin our friendship, or partnership, is if we let it. Give me a chance - give US a chance," Mac urged. "Can't we, I dunno, go upstairs and talk?" Vic sighed heavily. 

 

"Oookay," Mac said, desperate to come up with a plan that would satisfy Vic's obvious reluctance to allow Mac into his home - again. "How about my place? The park? A bar? Whatever. I think we HAVE to talk now, Vic - before we have a chance to retreat any further. I don't want last night just to end up being ignored. It...well it meant something to me, and I think to you too. Let's not brush this under the rug without giving it an honest chance." 

 

Vic made no response, his face carefully blank, and his green eyes icy as he listened to Mac's emotional ramblings. 

 

Long seconds passed in silence while Mac waited for his partner to respond. Finally, Mac shook his head in disgust. "Fuck it," he said in a low voice as he replaced his sunglasses and turned to leave. "It didn't happen, okay? Since that's what you seem to want, it didn't happen. I won't say anything - to anyone. We'll just ignore it all - the whole damned thing. Go back to the way we were before I FUCKED up. Before I let you... before I learned that... " He waved one hand helplessly as he started walking back to his car. 

 

"Where are you going?" The voice was deep and quiet, the words barely loud enough to be heard. 

 

Mac stopped and shrugged, pointedly keeping his back to the other man. "Out," he said simply. 

 

"Out where?" 

 

What the fuck was up with the twenty questions thing? "I don't know, Vic," he sighed. "A bar, I suppose." And some devil inside had him adding, "A gay bar, maybe. See if the whole thing was just a reaction to the situation, or if this is something I really want to investigate further." 

 

"No," Vic said, immediately, cutting him off with a harsh, almost angry tone.

 

There was no way he could handle that thought. The mere suggestion of Mac going off and slumming around some gay bar just to compare notes and see if his new experiences could be latent 'gayness' sent a flash like a cold wave over Vic, sobering him instantly. While part of him knew he should let the younger man go, to stay as far the hell away from him as could be managed, a larger part shouted that it couldn't be allowed to happen. Victor's mind whirled at the intensity of his automatic and possessive response. 

 

Mac stared at him in obvious surprise. "What do you mean 'no'? Jesus, Victor; you're gonna have to make up your mind here. One second you're pushing me away, the next you're acting like I'm not allowed to breathe without your express permission. You're making me dizzy. Make up your goddamned mind already." 

 

Frustrated, Vic scowled at his partner, wishing that the younger man didn't look so ...confused and appealing. In spite of the unfortunate inclusion of far too much alcohol, last night had meant a lot to him, more than he wanted to face. 

 

And it was more than "scratching an itch," more than the satisfaction of mutual need. Sure, the physical contact was a welcome change from cold, lonely nights, but he could have gotten that from any one-night stand he chose to take home. 

 

It was the thought of a specific warm body, his partner's long-limbed and gangly strength urgently pressing against him, responding with mutual desire and care. 

 

He hadn't dreamed Mac's reactions last night. While Vic himself had initiated the entire thing, he hadn't imagined Mac's excited response -- or his enthusiastic participation. But it kept coming back to the same damned thing... 

 

He was the more experienced partner, he'd known that Mac had been both drunk and emotionally fragile, yet he'd pushed Mac into a premature induction into a new, previously unexplored side of his nature. Call it what it was. He'd taken advantage of Mac's feelings. He'd been too eager. And he'd known it even as he'd plunged them both down this path. 

 

Vic licked dry lips. "I guess I'm just feeling guilty, that's all - and, I'm taking it out on you, Mac," Vic mumbled. "And, I'm scared - of what I could feel for you. Of you just using me to satisfy your curiosity. I... I ... Mac last night I let you see me. SEE me." 

 

Mac removed his glasses again. The dark eyes were warm and earnest. They seemed to promise that Mac understood and was willing to talk this through. "Vic, please, can't we just go upstairs and talk about this?" 

 

His feelings of reluctance still gnawing at his gut, Vic finally nodded and lead the way into the building. 

 

In the elevator, Mac opened his mouth to speak. Vic held up one hand in a staying gesture. "Not here. I'll check for bugs in the apartment when we get there. But... Hell, I wouldn't put anything past that woman! She probably has my entire building bugged." 

 

Nodding in silent agreement, Mac studied Vic's expression. Fear. Doubt. Guilt. All easy to read in the expressive jade eyes. And all feelings he could empathize with, feelings he shared. Dammit, he needed to get his own head on straight, and pretty darned quickly, too. Just what did he want from Vic? What did he expect of the other man? 

 

Once they'd entered Vic's place, Mac concentrated on making coffee - no booze tonight, thank you very much - while Vic checked for listening devices. Both finished at the same time and headed in to the living room, each bearing a cup of steaming coffee. Placing the cups on the low table in front of the sofa, they wordlessly set to work removing the audio and video feeds from the light fixture above them. 

 

That task finished and the apartment as "Director-proof" as they knew how to make it, the partners returned to the couch, each man sitting at an opposite end, as much distance as possible between them. 

 

"So?" Mac finally volunteered when the silence became oppressive. "Let's talk, Vic." 

 

Vic turned his attention from the steam rising off the mug he held in both hands long enough to offer Mac a grim look. "We might as well get down to it, I suppose." He drew another deep breath, his gaze unfocusing to stare off into middle distance. "Last night was... was..." 

 

"It was good," Mac stated firmly. 

 

"Yeah, it was, I can't argue that. But-" 

 

"Would you want to do it again?" Mac interrupted. He wasn't going to let Victor turn his back on what they'd shared without a fight. 

 

Vic sighed. "Yeah. I would. But that's not the point." 

 

"Oh, I think it is, Vic," Mac said, gently. "I think it's very much the point." 

 

As Mack watched, the older man thumped his coffee cup down on the table, not even noticing that a tiny bit of the liquid splashed out. Not like Vic at all. 

 

Rising from the couch, Vic began to pace out his agitation. "No, Mac - that's what you refuse to see. This is EXACTLY what I'm talking about! I'm bi, not something you knew, but something I accepted about myself a long time ago. I find you very desirable, and I know you've always been wilder than was good for you. You've never been one to avoid a dangerous situation or back down from a challenge. 

 

"I'm thrilled that you think what we did together was "good' but I don't want you doing this for the wrong reasons. I can't ... I feel so fucking bad! I took advantage of you and your situation with LiAnn. You never would have come to me looking for what we did; I seduced you. You're straight, for godssake!" 

 

"Vic." Mac chose his words carefully, seeing that his partner was on the edge, that this could go either way. "You didn't trick me or force me. Nothing happened to me that I didn't ask for.... Based on that alone, I think we have to change the "straight" designation to at least "bi-curious". And straight or not, I want to continue this - I want you. I think maybe I'm-" SHIT! Mac cut himself off. No need to admit any more than either was ready for. "Can't we just try it - try us?" 

 

Victor halted his pacing and turned to stare down at the seated man. "Mac, did you hear what you just said? Can you honestly tell me that there was a doubt in your mind last week, hell, two days ago, that you were anything less than 100% heterosexual? How can you be sure what you want? I don't want you to feel obliged to get into this simply because you know I want you. I mean, I - I've wanted - this isn't new...." Apparently unable to form his thoughts into coherent arguments, Vic groaned and sank back onto the couch, this time slightly closer to his partner. 

 

Mac raised his brows at Vic, offering a slight smile of encouragement. "Good, good. This is progress. We're talking here, that's gotta be good. So," he took a breath, refusing to be distracted from his goal, "can we try us, then?" 

 

Vic closed his eyes and rubbed distractedly at his forehead - a sure sign of a headache. Mac could tell the older man was mentally and emotionally exhausted. On one hand he felt bad that he was continuing to badger Vic about this when it was clear all he wanted was some peace and quiet and an early night. But he couldn't feel too badly about it. He couldn't say how he knew, but this was a fight that he had to win, that was worth whatever he had to do. Even if it meant heartlessly backing the other man into a corner when he was less than 100%. 

 

Opening his eyes, Vic sighed, "Yeah, I guess we can. In a way, I think we already have, that there already is an "us". Ignoring it isn't going to make it go away. We've already started something here, we might as well see it through." He turned his head to regard Mac. "It would be a shame not to." 

 

//A shame not to// 

 

//Shame// 

 

Damn. 

 

Vic's reticence - the tone of his reluctant agreement warned Mac that all was not well in the world of Victor Mansfield. "Vic, I really do want you," he tried to reassure. "Truly - and not because you fooled me or seduced me or pushed me into anything. I want YOU, the person, the man. I don't think gay, straight, or bi comes into it. I just want you - only you. I only said that about going to a bar to get a reaction. And," he added in a shamed tone, "because I felt rejected. I wouldn't do that - don't want anyone else. "If it's too soon - if you need more time, well, I can deal." Mac shrugged. "I want us to do this right, Vic - I ... hell, I don't want to lose you over this." 

 

Vic was struggling with this outpouring. It was almost as if Mac had pulled the rug out from under him, calling him on every point, had an answer for every roadblock that stood between them. Leaving nothing, no impediments. Which meant... 

 

"That makes two of us, then, I guess." Vic passed a hand over his face. "Look, I'm - I don't want to lose you either. If you're okay with it, than so am I. I just don't want you feeling like I've pushed you. That's all. I'm sorry I've been so difficult, that I ran off and left you at the Agency." Vic ploughed on, not seeing Mac roll his eyes at this customary assumption of guilt and blame. "I do want this. I mean, you. When I said we shouldn't be together, I wasn't rejecting you, I was rejecting obligating you to something you might not be ready for." He gave a short, self-derisive laugh. "If anything, I think I was more worried you were rejecting me." 

 

Vic looked back over to Mac, gauging his reaction and waiting to see how this would go down. He really didn't want to make any bigger of a mess of things than they already were. 

 

"Sooo," Mac drawled. "Let's summarize here, shall we? We agree that we both want each other, that the sex between us was excellent, that we're both worried about doing something to jeopardize our friendship and working relationship, but are going to go forward with exploring this ... attraction anyway. Sound about right to you?" Mac accompanied this final question with his familiar smug smirk. 

 

Feeling more at ease with this familiar sight, Vic wasn't able to suppress a tired chuckle. "Yeah, teach, that's about the size of it." 

 

Nodding, Mac continued, "Does this mean... um, should we wait? Take our time - let the sex come later - IF that's where we end up?" The younger man was trying for nonchalance but Vic could see his features tighten as he asked the casual question. 

 

Not sure how to respond, Victor was surprised at the thought that immediately popped into his mind. Oh god, let this lead to sex - that and so much more. 

 

At Vic's silence, Mac continued, "I guess I'm asking if we should slow things down. You know, dating, romance, the whole "get to know each other better" thing. Basically, forget last night, set it aside and just spend time together. 

 

"Don't get me wrong, Vic. I'm so fucking horny for you that I'd just as soon drag you into the bedroom. But, I'm just so - I want so much to do this right - to do what you want. Please, god, please tell me what you want from me." 

 

Vic felt a pulse of arousal begin deep inside of him at Mac's words. He tried to ignore it, shoulder it aside - it wasn't really what the situation called for at this point. He didn't want things to flare out of control as they had the night before. He looked over at Mac, studying his partner carefully, noticing things about him for the first time. Was just his imagination, or was Mac really as vulnerable, as emotionally open as he appeared right now? 

 

The realization caused violently conflicting impulses. A part of him couldn't help responding protectively - and he was probably the main thing that Mac needed protecting from. But this more accessible side Mac was showing was making his libido soar. Just thinking about it made him lick his lips, and his dick was hard enough to cut glass.

 

Mac waited for Vic to answer, to lay out how they were to proceed. He risked a glance at Vic to see what he might be thinking. What he saw knocked the breath out of him. Vic was giving him that LOOK. 

 

Mac asked, cautiously, "Uh, Vic?" Almost gasped when Vic smiled a little smile at him, one that was filled with an unexpectedly devilish desire ... 

 

Mac swallowed hard. He blinked. What the hell? Not five minutes ago Vic had been trying to push him away, now he seemed to be staring at him the way a hungry leopard assessed a tender, young antelope. He frowned, more than a little confused. "Vic?" 

 

"Yeees?" Ohmigod. That voice. Low, gravelly and so damned sexy. "Uh - Are you saying, um, offering, ah, answering me the way I think you're answering me? Does this mean...." Mac stammered to a halt struggling to ignore the way his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest. 

 

Vic rose, the movement sinuous and very, very sensual... 

 

//Shit - you are SO far gone, Ramsey// 

 

and held out one hand to Mac. "Yes," he said simply, still in that voice. 

 

"Oh." Mac knew he'd squeaked. Pretty damned embarrassing to be squeaking at his age, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not now. Nope, he was too busy worrying that his suddenly wobbly legs would cause him to end up in a heap at Vic's feet. 

 

Wouldn't THAT be a kick in the ass? 

 

Taking a deep breath, Mac took Vic's hand, not even trying to suppress the shudder of emotion the warm contact sent through his body. He allowed the other man to pull him to his feet, he even managed to stay upright. Next problem - locomotion. As Vic turned and tugged Mac in the direction of the bedroom, Mac was vastly relieved to find that he could, indeed, walk. 

 

Once inside the bedroom, with the door firmly shut, clothes went flying, a whirlwind of apparel discarded with abandon. Then Mac's world consisted of nothing but heat and amazing feeling of Victor's mouth against his own. They managed to get onto the bed, not quite making it under the covers. Mac didn't mind; he liked seeing all of Vic like this. Naked, trembling and flushed, his cock jutting proudly forth and with that gleaming, desperate hot look in those deep green eyes. 

 

"God, Vic," Mac panted. "I want... I want you so much." He looked at Vic with appeal. "What - what should I do?" 

 

"Fuck me, of course." 

 

Mac lost his ability to breathe at that. Fuck Vic? Oh no ... he couldn't - 

 

Or, could he? Finally able to draw breath again, Mac considered the possibilities. His cock grew impossibly hard at the very thought. But... 

 

"I've never done that, Vic. Think you're up to giving an amateur instructions? Or," he hesitated, filled with doubts, "did you mean it? Seriously?" 

 

Vic pulled Mac closer and pressed his lips to one ear. "Seriously, Mac. Very seriously - I want to feel you inside of me. Need it. Need you." 

 

One hand reached down to caress Mac's balls, cupping and handling them while he sucked in a breath and tried to remember what was required of him. Oh. Vic wanted him...INSIDE of... Jesus. The thought made his cock pulse and Vic chuckled gently against his neck as he felt Mac's response to both Vic's words and touch. 

 

"Victor," Mac breathed, just enjoying saying his name as Vic's hand now moved upward to grip his cock. It wasn't enough - he wanted to feel his body against Vic's, so completely, so totally, that they were joined. So that their skin was no longer separating them from each other. Wanted to stay like this forever. He found his heart thudding rapidly inside of his chest at the final, inescapable conclusion that this led to. He wanted Vic. Wanted him now and forever. Couldn't let go of him now that he had him. He knew he was willing to do whatever it took to make this last. To make them last. 

 

While he held his trembling young lover in his arms, Vic was trying to remember where they'd left the condoms and lube. He was anxious to feel Mac's slender, long silky shaft filling him.... He looked about the room and happened to catch the expression on Mac's face. It froze him into stillness. 

 

Do I look like that too? All sort of dazed and flushed? Eyes wide and all pupil? 

 

Vic closed his eyes tightly, suddenly feeling unworthy of the almost reverent emotions he could see in his partner's gaze. After a moment, he leaned down to press a warm kiss to that plush mouth. Gathering his composure, he whispered, "Won't be a moment. I need to get the lube." 

 

Mac swallowed the lump in his throat, reminding himself that breathing was a pre-requisite for survival as he watched Vic searching around for the lube and condoms. It seemed so illicit to gain such a thrill from seeing Vic naked like this, and with the added anticipation of soon to be fucking him - fucking VIC, for Godssake. It left him shaking slightly. He felt tensed like a coiled spring. The sight of that ass as Vic leaned down momentarily sent a bolt of pure lust shooting through his lower belly, cranking his arousal to an almost unbearable level. 

 

"Vic," he said urgently in a low voice. 

 

Vic straightened, his eyes widening as he turned in disbelief at the deep, husky arousal in Mac's voice. Triumphantly, Vic displayed the required items to Mac. "On my way, babe." 

 

He scurried over to join Mac and climbed into the bed, immediately pulling the other man closer. As he gently arranged Mac's length along his, Vic sighed happily. "I want you," he murmured huskily. "So much, Mac." 

 

With a demanding tug, Vic let Mac know that he wanted the feel of that lanky form atop him. Mac willingly rolled on top the other man, not even pausing to consider whether his weight would be a burden. 

 

"God, that feels good!" Vic groaned. 

 

Apparently the weight wasn't an issue. Arching, raising Mac like the crest of a wave, Vic sought more contact, thrusting his hips and grinding their matching erections together. 

 

"Mmmm, oh yeah!" Vic groaned helplessly. "You feel... Oh, Mac - I've wanted this - you - so badly. So glad you followed me home." 

 

Reacting as much to Vic's words as the obvious desire the man felt, Mac writhed against him. His breathing hot and labored, Mac tried his best to climb right inside of Vic's skin. "You're killing me here, Vic. What - how do I do this? Want to fuck you... Want you so much!" 

 

Vic chewed his lower lip, breathing hard. "I think - here," and he turned, reluctantly detaching himself from Mac's embrace to slide down on the bed and lie there, on his stomach. "Let's try it this way." 

 

Mac gave a little moan at the sight. Vic lay facedown, his head turned to the right, with his arms up around the pillow, seemingly holding onto it for support. His legs were parted slightly, with his right knee bent. Mac reverently got up to lean over him, kissing his way down the smooth back, marveling at the warmth, the suppleness, the sheer beauty of the man under him. When his traveling hands reached Vic's hips, he bent to kiss the pale asscheeks, loving the way the skin felt to his lips as his mouth followed. 

 

Mac gulped, wanting nothing more than to plunge his aching hardness between those taut buttocks, but he felt awkward. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't cause Vic either discomfort or pain, seeing as his intended point of entry was so much tighter than any cunt he'd had. "Um, Vic?" he asked, quietly. "How do you want me to go about this?" 

 

Shifting impatiently, Vic glanced at Mac. He seemed to realize how overwhelmed the younger man felt and offered an encouraging smile. "Mac, pick up the lube - yeah, that's it. Now, put a little on your fingers... " 

 

When Mac's shaky hands had managed the flip-top, and his fingers were coated in the clear lubricant, Vic continued. "Lay down next to me, Mac. I want to feel you against me while you get me ready." 

 

"God, Vic , your voice alone could make me - " With a sigh of joy, Mac lay down, draping his body along Vic's. Heat. That silky skin was so fucking hot! "Okay, Vic, here I am, fingers lubed ... what now?" 

 

"Now, you prepare me, Mac." Vic said huskily - urgently. "Stretch my asshole - so you can - Oh god!" Vic jumped when Mac carefully ran one finger across his opening. "More. Please, MORE!" 

 

Vic's responsiveness atop Mac's already aroused senses was almost more than he could bear. He grinned. Flashes of what had happened between them last night came in flickering images and remembered sensations... He knew exactly how Vic must feel at this moment. He gently slid the end of one finger into Vic's hot, tightly puckered anus, relishing the way Vic groaned aloud and seemingly moved his hips involuntarily. 

 

"More, oh yes, that's it," Vic strained, his voice going all whispery and choked. 

 

Mac chuckled inaudibly beside him and replied, "You're so beautiful like this." He slid more of a slippery finger into Vic's clenching hole. "Love doing this to you." He began to slide his finger in and out, experimentally. 

 

It garnered quite an awesome reaction. "Shit! FUCK!" Vic moaned. "Damn, Mac - I think you've a natural." He raised his hips further and started rocking onto that wonderfully invasive finger. "OH!" He exclaimed. "Oh SHIT, yesss. More, Mac - another finger." 

 

"Don't... don't want to hurt you, Vic," was the panted response. 

 

Turning his head, Vic let Mac see just how much he was loving this - how GOOD it felt. "Not gonna hurt me," he promised. "Just - just more, please?" 

 

Mac grunted and reached to apply more lube to his fingers. No matter what Vic said, Mac was determined to take his time and do this right. Never mind his aching, dripping cock. He could wait, take the time to be sure Vic was ready for him... he'd take all the time necessary. 

 

Carefully, he slipped another finger into Vic. Damn, the man was tight - and warm - and the passage was so silky! With a desperate sound, Mac asked, "You okay? Am I doing this right? " 

 

"Y-you're doing fine. Dammit, Mac, please, I'm ready NOW." With his insides turning to jelly and his body locked into some kind of primitive reaction, Vic was gasping for breath, squirming with two fingers now sliding in and out of him, he couldn't help moving back, trying to get more inside him. "Please! Want your cock in me, now!" 

 

Mac obediently slipped his fingers out of Vic's clutching anus and began to unroll the condom onto his cock. He fumbled the attempt twice, his fingers were trembling with anticipation and slippery with lube. Finally, he had to get up from the mattress and concentrate on doing it properly. The condom seemed just a little too tight on his prick, but he was past caring, and it really was nothing. Nothing compared to how tight Vic's ass was. God. With a mixture of awe and lust, Mac climbed between Vic's legs to lean back down over him and place the head of his cock against Vic's desperate and eager hole, his little backward grinding movements taking Mac into him before Mac had even begun to push. 

 

OH. 

 

JESUS. 

 

Vic's ass was so... so good, a vise-like grip sucking him into a satiny furnace. He whimpered slightly, he was so ready just to let go then and there, give into some wild idea of slamming into that tightness, that depth. "Vic," he managed, his voice carrying a high-pitched note of desperation that carried through the strained huskiness.

 

Very much afraid that he'd come right away just knowing he was inside Vic, Mac paused. Gasping for air and dripping sweat, he did his best to calm down, bring himself under control. 

 

Vic wriggled under him, pushing back onto Mac's cock. "Oh FUCK!" Mac ground out. "Vic... Victor, hold still for a minute, okay? You don't want this to be over TOO quickly, do you?" 

 

"No," Vic groaned - and clenched his anal muscles around Mac. "I don't - but it's so good, Mac. I don't think I can wait..." Whimpering with desperate need, he ground his ass against Mac's groin. "Can't," he panted, "can't wait.... Jesus, Mac, fuck me. Please." 

 

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Vic started to fuck himself on Mac's hardness. Overwhelmed by the sensation, Mac gripped Vic's hips tightly with both hands. He was probably leaving bruises on that milky skin, but he couldn't bring himself to care. And judging by the sob of pleasure that shook Vic's body, he wasn't minding too much either. In fact, the thought of seeing marks he'd caused left on his partner's body was deeply arousing. 

 

"Okay, baby, you want it, you got it," Mac promised, gritting his teeth with the effort to not come as Vic continued to work himself on Mac's length. Putting some muscle into it, Mac began to thrust forward into Vic, setting a faster pace than Vic had been able to. 

 

Vic gasped and locked his arms to brace himself as Mac finally - FINALLY - began to fuck him in earnest. Each time Mac's cock slid fully into him, deeper and harder with every thrust, a jolt of searing pleasure went racing through him. He was about to come himself, without anything or anyone touching his cock. Vic couldn't help giving an open-mouthed cry with every slam of Mac's hips against him. The magic that Mac's cock was working on his prostate, as well as filling him and stretching him so completely, so wonderfully, almost made up for the desperate itch Vic had to feel his ass being reamed out harder. Mac didn't seem to realize Vic could willingly take deeper, harder thrusts, but that was something he'd learn with time and experience. Right now, he was doing a very admirable job of blowing the top off Vic's skull. 

 

As if hearing Vic's mental wish for more, Mac drove into him harder and harder. Vic could feel that expansive bubble of pleasure rising from his feet to reach his lower belly, rising up further to reach his head and then began to cry out as his cock let loose, his come shooting out of him to land on the bed beneath as he shook, convulsing slightly with the force of his climax. 

 

That cry. Lord - the way Vic's muscles clenched around his cock! Mac tightened his hold on Vic's hips and thrust into his silky passage as far as possible. Not breathing, unable to breathe, he froze. The rippling contractions of Vic's asshole were irresistible - as was the knowledge that the ripples were in reaction to HIM. 

 

As that thought took over, Mac couldn't hold off any longer. With a shout, he pulled out once more, slamming his way back in - as far into Vic as possible. 

 

And came. 

 

And came some more. Black spots were dancing before his eyes and his ears were rushing hollowly when Mac felt Vic collapse onto the bed. Having no strength left in his own limbs, Mac had no choice but to follow him down, coming to rest heavily on his back. For quite some time, there was no sound in the room but the gradually slowing breathing of the two exhausted men. 

 

"Damn," Vic finally mumbled. 

 

"Yeah," Mac responded, surprised to find that he could not only breathe, he could speak. 

 

With a happy sigh, Vic reached back and closed one hand over Mac's hip. "'Night," he mumbled drowsily. 

 

"Mmph," was the reply. But Mac was not really in a position to sleep, draped on top of Vic's frame. And besides, it was necessary to get this condom off. He pulled out of Vic carefully, then padded off to the bathroom to clean up.

 

The surprised expression on his face clearly said Mac had expected Vic to be asleep when he came back from the bathroom. 

 

Grinning from the bed where he'd crawled under the hastily straightened covers, Vic invited, "Come on; get in." 

 

Holding open the covers as Mac slipped into the bed beside him, Vic pulled the other man down against the pillows and willingly met the arms that reached out to him halfway. 

 

Vic snuggled in against Mac, holding him closer and sighing with contentment. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and more than ready for sleep. If only he could get his mind to feel as relaxed and sated as his body. But there was that damned little voice in his head, the one that popped off with things he didn't want to think about, usually at the worst possible times. And that damned voice was suggesting the two men had, in the time-honored tradition of men everywhere, used sex to avoid dealing with how they felt about each other. He couldn't help suspecting that he was himself falling deeper for Mac than was wise. This was the second time they'd had sex and it seemed to be even better than he'd remembered. Not hard, given their drunken state the first time, but still... 

 

Then it hit him. Like a flashing neon sign pointing out disaster ahead. 

 

'FALLING FOR MAC' 

 

Falling, hell. Damned if he hadn't already fallen. The moment Mac had shown even the slightest inclination for him, seemed to let down his guard, opened himself and let himself show Vic that he wanted him... Vic had been lost the second he'd seen Mac's eyes and the vulnerability of his own desire for Victor - his partner, his rival, his friend. 

 

This was NOT what he had planned. This was too big, too messy. No way he could do this. No way. 

 

But it was too damned late and he knew it. It was already done. 

 

He loved Mac. And Mac loved him. The sex hadn't been avoidance at all; it had been a way for both of them to show their love without having to admit it aloud. Another typical "guy" thing. 

 

And in doing so, they'd fallen headlong into it. No doubt the Director was laughing her ass off, Dobrinsky chuckling at her side, as they watched the two of them from some as-yet-undiscovered camera. 

 

However, the awareness of what he and Mac now had was enough to bring its own reassurance, and Vic knew he didn't give a damn. Because there was happiness here. There was comfort in the act of holding Mac, of feeling Mac's arms about him, of the touch of Mac's warm body close up against his; for now at least, that was enough. 

 

In the gathered darkness, Vic smiled to himself.


End file.
